Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For those wanting a visualization of Derek, I put my vision of him standing with the group.

Credits to: original artwork creators of FFX (pulled these from wikipedia) and my fiance for creating Derek.

Chapter Text

A deep quake rattled the pavement beneath my feet, the vibrations snaking through the streets and up my legs like some kind of warning. I froze mid-step, my heart thudding against my ribs as the distant roar followed. It was loud—loud enough to silence the noise of downtown’s usual chaos. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. Footsteps faltered. For a moment, the city stood still. Around me, people exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes reflecting the same confusion and dread crawling through my chest.

Before anyone could speak, the ground exploded.

Tentacles—writhing, grotesque, and impossibly large—burst through the pavement with violent force, sending chunks of asphalt flying. I stumbled backward as they lashed out, wrapping around cars, light poles, anything—or anyone—within reach. A bellow rumbled from below, low and guttural, and then it came into view: a creature of impossible size hauling itself out of the ground. Debris tumbled off its massive body as vehicles fell from its writhing form like discarded toys.

I couldn’t move. My body locked up as I stared, my mind scrambling to process what I was seeing. 

What… is that?

The thing towered above the city, its silhouette stark against the fading sunlight. Then it screeched—a sharp, ear-splitting sound that made me wince and clamp my hands over my ears. That sound shattered whatever trance I’d been in. I didn’t need to understand. I didn’t care. The only thing I knew was that I had to get my family out of here.

The world around me erupted into chaos. People screamed, running in every direction as the monster charged forward, each of its steps shaking the ground like an earthquake. My ears rang from the noise, but I forced myself to move, shoving through the panicked crowd. “Keep moving!” I yelled, my voice raw with desperation. I grabbed my mom’s arm, pulling her forward. Ahead of us, my sister clung to my dad’s hand, her voice cracking as she called out. I could hear the fear in her words, echoing the same panic clawing at my chest.

The panic surged when a man slammed into me, knocking me and my mom to the ground. Pain shot through my side, but I couldn’t afford to stay down. I scrambled back to my feet, grabbing her arm to pull her up. Around us, the air began to shift, and for a second, I thought it was the monster causing it. But no—this was something else. A pull, faint at first, but growing stronger. Gravity seemed to warp, dragging everything—small objects first, then larger ones—toward the center of the street.

Then I saw it.

A flash of blinding light erupted, so bright I had to shield my eyes. When I blinked the spots away, I saw the swirling void that had taken its place. My stomach sank. A rift. That’s what it had to be. The vortex churned and twisted, growing wider by the second as it sucked in everything in its reach. Debris, cars, even people—it didn’t care. It took everything.

“No, no, no…” The words fell from my lips as I scanned the street for something, anything to hold on to. My eyes locked on a bent steel pole, half-buried in the fractured ground. I dove for it, grabbing hold just as the pull intensified.

A scream ripped through the air—my mom’s. My heart nearly stopped when I saw her hanging above the ground, her body dangling helplessly as the vortex pulled her in. “Hold on!” I shouted, my voice cracking as I stretched my arm toward her. Her fingers dug into my wrist, but her grip was slipping. I gritted my teeth, every muscle in my arms burning as I pulled against the force dragging her away. Adrenaline surged through me, blurring out the pain. I wasn’t going to let go. Not now. Not ever.

With a final, desperate heave, I managed to get her close enough to grab the pole. Relief flooded me as her feet found solid ground, but it didn’t last. The vortex’s pull grew stronger, the roar of debris deafening around us. Cars, streetlamps, shattered glass—everything was being sucked in. I glanced around frantically. My dad and sister were still farther back, clawing their way toward us as the street beneath them cracked and crumbled. They were running out of time.

“Come on!” I screamed, my voice hoarse as I waved them forward. My dad held onto my sister with one arm, using the other to grab anything stable enough to pull them closer. I focused on my mom, gripping her tightly as I braced myself. 

She comes first. 

Together, we managed to pull her up onto safer ground, but the relief didn’t last long. Beneath me, the pavement cracked with a loud, sickening noise.

“Derek!” someone shouted. I turned just in time to see the pole anchoring me start to give way. Panic surged through me. My grip slipped, and I flailed, searching for something else to hold onto. There was nothing. 

My family’s faces burned into my mind as I saw them reaching for me, their mouths open in screams I couldn’t hear over the roar of the vortex. The ground vanished beneath me, and I felt myself fall into it.

The last thing I saw was the monster turning toward the rift, its rampage momentarily halted as it stared into the swirling void. It didn’t seem scared. It seemed curious. I opened my mouth to yell, to warn my family to run—but the words never came.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

It was cold. Silent. Suffocating. For the first time in my life, I was truly, utterly alone.

—

The first thing I heard was the rhythmic sound of waves lapping gently against the shore—a soft, steady push and pull that felt almost too calm for the storm of emotions still raging inside me. Warm sunlight stretched across my back, a stark contrast to the cool, gritty texture of sand beneath me.

A groan escaped my lips as I pushed myself onto my knees. The sudden brightness of my surroundings stung my eyes, blinding after the suffocating darkness I’d been yanked out of. Shielding my face with one hand, I squinted to take in the scene: a vibrant green forest swaying lazily in the breeze just ahead, an endless stretch of clear, blue ocean glimmering behind me, and beneath me, pristine white sand that seemed to stretch forever.

Where am I?

I turned toward the water, my chest tightening with desperate hope. The rift. It had to still be here. If I could find it, maybe—just maybe—I could go back. My heart sank as my eyes swept the horizon. There was nothing. No swirling void, no trace of the chaos that had consumed me. Not even an island in the distance, just water and sky blending together into an endless expanse.

The memories rushed back like a punch to the gut: the monster, the screaming, the ground giving way beneath me. My stomach churned as I silently prayed my family had escaped. They had to be safe. I couldn’t let myself believe anything else.

Shaking off the thought, I forced myself upright, brushing the sand from my clothes. My eyes scanned the landscape again, lingering on the strange spires piercing the sky beyond the forest. They gleamed faintly in the sunlight, their metallic surfaces tarnished with age. Copper, intricately designed, and completely alien to me, they stood out like ancient relics from another world.

I stood there, frozen, waiting for something—anything—to happen. But the beach remained silent, the only movement coming from the waves and the lazy sway of the trees. With a deep sigh, I steeled myself. I couldn’t stay here forever. If I wanted answers—or even a chance at surviving—sitting around wasn’t going to cut it.

I turned my focus to the forest. It wasn’t exactly inviting, but it was the best option I had. The walk started out almost peaceful. A faint breeze carried the scent of salt and earth, and the sound of rustling leaves followed me as I wove through the trees. For a fleeting moment, I let myself imagine that this strange place might not be so bad.

That moment didn’t last.

The first warning came as a faint, squelching noise just ahead. I stopped dead in my tracks, my pulse quickening as two figures emerged from behind the undergrowth. My stomach dropped.

The creatures oozing toward me were unlike anything I’d ever seen. Their translucent, blue, gelatinous forms glistened in the dappled sunlight, shifting unnaturally as they moved. Each had a grotesque, gaping mouth that stretched across half their body and dull, glowing red eyes that radiated hunger.

I barely breathed, my body frozen in place. Monsters. These were actual monsters.

Forcing myself to stay low, I crouched behind a thick tree trunk, trying to keep calm even as my heart pounded against my ribs. My eyes darted to the forest floor, searching frantically for something I could use as a weapon. The ground was littered with branches and leaves—none of it ideal, but I cursed under my breath and grabbed the sturdiest branch I could find. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

Pressing my back against the tree, I risked a quick glance around its edge. The creatures’ gelatinous bodies pulsed unnaturally as they slithered closer, their mouths opening and closing soundlessly. My grip tightened on the branch, but I knew fighting them wasn’t an option. Not unless I absolutely had no choice.

Ahead, a dense cluster of trees and bushes offered the perfect cover. If I could make it there without being noticed, I might stand a chance of avoiding them. Slowly, carefully, I edged around the tree and crept to the right, staying low and moving as quietly as I could. The next large tree gave me a momentary reprieve, and I pressed myself against it, stealing another glance to check the creatures’ movements. They hadn’t noticed me yet.

I exhaled softly, daring to relax just a little. But before I could plan my next move, a rustling sound above made my blood run cold. My head snapped up just as something heavy dropped from the branches.

Instinct kicked in, and I rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the smaller blue slime that slammed into the ground where I’d just been. It let out a high-pitched screech, and my heart sank. So much for staying hidden.

“Damn it,” I hissed, already running.

I didn’t need to look back to know the other slimes were chasing me—the gurgling screeches and wet, sloshing sounds were enough. My legs burned as I darted through the forest, weaving between trees and leaping over exposed roots. Adrenaline coursed through me, pushing me forward even as my lungs screamed for air.

The forest thinned, and I burst into a clearing, skidding slightly on uneven ground. Ahead, the terrain sloped downward, and carved stone tracks led toward what looked like a village far below. My chest tightened with a surge of hope. If I could just make it there, I’d be safe.

“Just a little further,” I thought, forcing my legs to move faster.

But the monsters were gaining on me. Their screeches grew louder, closer, until something slammed into me from behind. The impact sent me sprawling forward, the branch flying from my grip.

Cold water drenched my back, clinging to my clothes and skin like a freezing second skin. I hit the ground hard, the air knocked from my lungs in a painful gasp.

Pain flared in my ribs and hands as I scrambled to get up. My body protested every movement, but I couldn’t stop. I snagged the branch quickly, spinning to face the monsters. 

I turned just in time to see all three creatures closing the gap, their grotesque, gelatinous bodies undulating with unsettling fluidity. They were barely meters away now. My grip tightened on the branch in my hand, and instinct kicked in, forcing me into a defensive stance. My mind raced, weighing the slim odds of outrunning them against the even slimmer odds of fighting them off.

Before I could act, one of the creatures began to glow faintly. Its translucent body pulsed with a strange, otherworldly light, and, without warning, a concentrated blast of water shot out, slamming into my chest like a cannonball. The force sent me staggering backward. Somehow, I managed to stay on my feet, but my breath hitched as pain blossomed across my ribs. 

I winced, thinking grimly, That’s definitely going to bruise.

I gasped for air, struggling to process what had just happened. Water? I muttered, half to myself, the words tumbling out in disbelief. 

And it came out of nowhere. But how…?

There was no time for answers. Shaking off the ache in my chest, I made a snap decision: Run. My muscles tensed to spring into motion, but before I could take a step, the air around me dimmed, like shadows had crept over the clearing.

A bolt of lightning split the sky, cracking against one of the creatures with deafening force. The impact sent the monster dissolving into the ground, its gelatinous form disintegrating into nothingness. From its remains, two faint streaks of light floated upward, vanishing into the sky.

Startled, I whipped my head toward the source. Footsteps crunched against the gravel, drawing my attention to a figure approaching through the trees.

She was striking—impossibly so. Crimson eyes, sharp and calculating, stared out from beneath long black lashes. Purple lipstick highlighted her sharp features, lending her an almost regal air. Her black hair was tied in a bun, though impossibly long braids trailed behind her, swaying with every step. She wore a fur-collared dress that hugged her figure, the dark fabric flowing to a hem adorned with a cascade of belts that jingled softly as she walked. But what caught my attention most was what she held in her hands.

A doll.

The thought escaped my lips before I could stop it. Her crimson eyes flicked toward me, her hard gaze pinning me in place and silencing me instantly. Then, just as quickly, she shifted her focus back to the two remaining creatures.

Without a word, her body began to glow faintly—the same eerie light I’d seen moments before the lightning struck. With a graceful motion of her hand, another bolt of lightning cracked down from the heavens, obliterating the second monster in an instant.

One left.

The last slime, agitated and desperate now, turned its glowing red eyes toward me. My chest tightened as it charged, its movements frantic and unrelenting. I gripped the branch tightly, adrenaline surging through me. With all my strength, I swung, the impact vibrating through my arms as the branch bounced harmlessly off its gelatinous body.

It wasn’t enough. The monster lunged closer, and panic surged as I instinctively thrust my left hand out in a futile attempt to shield myself. I stumbled backward, my footing lost, my arm still stretched in front of me.

That’s when it happened.

A crackling sensation rippled through my hand, sharp and electric. Before I could comprehend what I was feeling, a bolt of lightning erupted from my palm, arcing directly into the slime. The blast sent it flying backward several feet, its glowing eyes dimming as it hit the ground with a wet splat.

I fell onto my back, my chest heaving as I stared at my outstretched hand. Electricity danced faintly across my fingertips, small sparks crackling and fading away. My mind reeled.

“What…?” The word barely escaped my lips, a whisper of disbelief. I stayed there, frozen, my thoughts spiraling as I tried to piece together what had just happened.

Movement in my periphery caught my attention. The woman—she’d been watching the whole time. Her expression, unreadable at first, had shifted into something close to shock. But she recovered quickly, her sharp features hardening with resolve.

Without hesitation, she stepped forward, her pace deliberate and unyielding. The jingling of her belts echoed faintly as she closed the distance to finish off the last creature. I remained on the ground, too stunned to move, my gaze locked on her. Whoever she was, she clearly knew what she was doing.

I tried to stand, but my legs buckled beneath me. Exhaustion won out, and I collapsed back onto the ground, trembling from the aftershocks of adrenaline. Before I could catch my breath, the woman in black stepped closer, her heels crunching softly against the gravel. She crouched in front of me, her piercing crimson eyes locking onto mine.

Neither of us spoke. We just stared at each other in silence, her expression unreadable. A soft sigh escaped her lips after a moment, and she stood again, her attention shifting to something behind me.

That’s when I heard it—footsteps, hurried and drawing closer. I turned my head in time to see a younger woman rushing toward us. Her light brown hair, cut just to her shoulders, swayed as she moved, and her dress—ornate and flowing—was unlike anything I’d seen before.

Why does everyone here dress so weird?

She reached me quickly, leaning in without a second thought, her concern plain in her wide eyes. Her expression was so gentle it caught me off guard, but I couldn’t find the strength to recoil from the invasion of my personal space.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, her voice soft yet urgent.

I opened my mouth to answer, but my mind still felt sluggish, reeling from everything that had just happened. I managed a slow nod.

Now that she was closer, I noticed something unusual about her eyes. One was pale blue, the other a vivid green. The contrast was striking—so much so that the words slipped out before I could stop them.

“Your eyes…”

She blinked, confused. “I’m sorry?”

I groaned inwardly, bringing a hand to my face. Of course, that’s the first thing you say to a bunch of strangers.

“Sorry!” I blurted, my face heating up. “I mean…” I gestured awkwardly to my own eyes. “When someone has two different colors like that, it’s called heterochromia.”

Her expression tightened briefly, something guarded flashing across her face, and I hesitated. Had I offended her?

“They’re nice,” I added quickly, quieter this time but sincere. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with eyes like that.”

Her features softened, the tension easing as she offered me a shy smile. “I see,” she said simply. “Thank you. Just hold still, okay?”

I tilted my head, confused, as she knelt beside me. Her hands began to glow faintly, a soft, shimmering light that danced in the air around them. Panic clawed at my chest, the memory of those glowing monsters flashing through my mind.

“W-wait, what are you—”

But the light wasn’t cold or threatening. It was warm, soothing, wrapping around me like a gentle embrace. Slowly, the pain in my ribs faded, the sharp sting of scrapes and bruises vanishing as though they’d never been there. A strange sense of calm settled over me, washing away the chaos of the last few minutes.

And then it hit me.

The lightning. The glowing light. The way the pain disappeared so easily.

This wasn’t technology or medicine.

This was… magic.

“Magic,” I said, breaking the silence. My voice sounded rough, uneven, like I wasn’t entirely sure I believed my own words. When neither of the women reacted, I pressed on, my tone sharpening with disbelief. “You just healed me with magic. And you—” I jabbed a finger toward the woman in black, my expression incredulous—“you fought those things with magic too.”

They exchanged a glance, their faces unreadable but tinged with something that almost looked like amusement. Like I’d just said something ridiculous. Their silence only deepened the knot of confusion in my chest.

I frowned, my gaze dropping to the ground as I tried to make sense of it all. Magic must come naturally to them if they’re looking at me like I’m crazy. The thought should’ve been absurd, but it wasn’t. Still, it didn’t sit right. Magic wasn’t just unfamiliar—it was impossible. At least, where I was from.

And that’s when it hit me.

“I’m not in my world,” I said softly, more to myself than to them.

The younger woman’s concerned gaze followed me as I shifted to stand, my legs shaky but functional. She reached out like she wanted to help, but I held up a hand, forcing a small smile. “I’m fine,” I assured her.

I turned my attention to the woman in black, my voice finding some of its strength again. “I’m not from here.”

“I know that,” she said flatly, her tone clipped, as if my statement wasn’t even worth her time.

“No,” I pressed, my voice firm. “I mean I’m not from this world.” I held her gaze, hoping to convey the weight of my words.

Her crimson eyes narrowed as she studied me in silence, her expression betraying nothing. I couldn’t tell if she believed me, but at least she didn’t laugh or dismiss me outright. Before she could say anything, the younger woman spoke up, her tone gentle but insistent.

“Please come to the village with us,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her. “It’s not safe here. There might be more fiends, and you’re in no condition to fight.”

There was something in her voice—earnest and hopeful—that made it impossible to argue. Her smile only reinforced it, warm enough to melt through the tension still lingering in the air.

Behind her, the woman in black let out a long, exasperated sigh, rubbing her temple before turning and heading down the slope toward what I could only assume was the village.

The younger woman lingered, her gaze holding mine until I took a hesitant step forward. She smiled again as we started walking, her voice breaking the silence. “I’m Yuna, by the way,” she said, her tone bright despite everything that had just happened. “And that’s Lulu.”

I glanced at the figure ahead—Lulu—then back to Yuna. There was something disarming about the kindness in her expression, a softness that felt almost out of place in a world filled with monsters.

“Derek,” I finally said, my voice quieter than I’d intended.

“It’s nice to meet you, Derek,” she said, her smile widening as we continued toward the village.

Since I’d landed in this strange place, I felt a faint flicker of hope. I still didn’t know where I was or how I’d ever get back, but at least now, I wasn’t alone.

—

The rest of the way down the slope passed in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. I stayed focused on my surroundings, taking in every detail of the strange, vibrant landscape. The air smelled fresher here, the greenery almost unnaturally lush. Before I knew it, the village came into view—a peaceful cluster of thatched-roof huts nestled between the forest and the ocean.

“Welcome to Besaid,” Yuna said, her voice cheerful as we reached the entrance. Her warm tone cut through the storm of my thoughts, and the smile she offered felt like a ray of sunlight breaking through dark clouds. “Let’s get you to the healing hut so they can make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

I nodded, unable to form a proper response. My attention was everywhere at once—on the villagers we passed, on their colorful, intricately designed clothing, and, most of all, on their stares. I felt them like a weight pressing down on me, and my instinct was to shrink in on myself, hoping I’d draw less attention.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Lulu lingering near the edge of the village, her crimson eyes sharp and unreadable. She didn’t say anything, and as soon as we entered the village proper, she slipped away into a separate hut without so much as a glance in my direction.

Inside the healing hut, two elders greeted me—an old man and woman with weathered faces that radiated kindness. Their expressions were curious, though, like they were trying to figure out what exactly I was. Yuna introduced me briefly before turning to me with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, but I have a few things to take care of,” she said gently. “They’ll take good care of you.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving me alone with the elders.

I sat quietly as they began their inspection. Their hands were gentle but efficient, carefully checking over the injuries Yuna had healed and examining my clothes like they were some alien artifact. That’s when it hit me: to them, I’m the one who looks out of place. My modern clothes must’ve seemed just as strange to them as their ceremonial garb seemed to me.

The older woman, her voice calm and soothing, commented on Yuna’s skill. Apparently, her healing work had been exceptional. I nodded politely, barely listening as my thoughts spiraled inward.

The memories came rushing back: the rift, the chaos, being torn away from my family. I remembered waking up on the beach, with no sign of the rift or any way back home. Maybe I fell into the sea and washed ashore? The thought didn’t sit right. If that were true, where was the rift now? Was there any way to find it again?

Frustration gnawed at me. Every time I tried to make sense of what had happened, I hit a dead end. My fists clenched against my thighs as I forced myself to breathe. The last thing I needed was to freak out in front of these people and end up cast out of this village—Besaid, they called it.

Maybe someone here has seen the rift, I thought desperately. With all the chaos it caused in my world, surely someone would have noticed something.

The elders finished their inspection, and the old woman finally broke the silence. Her voice was calm but carried a weight of curiosity. “Where did you come from, and how did you get here?”

The questions were simple, but I froze. How could I explain the truth without sounding like a complete lunatic? I decided to keep it vague—close to the truth, but not too close.

“My family and I were running from a large monster,” I began slowly, carefully choosing my words. “We got separated. I remember falling into something, and then… I woke up on the shore, not far from here.” I cringed inwardly at how flimsy the story sounded but kept my face neutral. “I can’t remember where I came from.”

The elders exchanged a look, and I noticed their expressions soften slightly—almost like they were relieved. The old woman whispered something under her breath: “Oh, praise be to Yevon, you survived Sin.”

Before I could ask what she meant, they moved in unison, performing a fluid motion with their arms before bowing deeply.

I blinked, completely thrown off. Is Besaid run by a cult?

They didn’t seem to notice my confusion, or maybe they were ignoring it. I sat there as they began explaining. Apparently, they thought my memory loss was caused by something they called “Sin’s toxins.” According to them, the monster they referred to as “Sin” excreted toxins that affected the mind, muddling memories.

Convenient, I thought grimly. Still, it worked in my favor, giving me a plausible excuse for my disoriented state. “I thought something was wrong with me when I couldn’t remember much,” I said aloud, playing along.

The elders nodded, murmuring sympathetically. I took the opportunity to ask, “Does this happen often? I mean, do people usually wash up on your beaches here?”

My question hung in the air, and the elders exchanged uneasy glances. The old woman’s voice was low and tinged with worry when she finally spoke. “No, child. People don’t often survive Sin.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. Could this “Sin” be the same monster from my world? If that were true, then what about the rift? A black hole doesn’t excrete toxins… does it?

Gathering my courage, I decided to push further. “Have you ever seen something like a black hole appear around here? Something that takes things away… or spits them out?”

The elders hesitated, their expressions carefully neutral. They were trying not to look at me like I’d lost my mind, but their silence said enough. Finally, the old woman spoke gently, “I think your memories are just confused, child. We haven’t seen anything like that before.”

Defeated, I nodded, swallowing the frustration bubbling in my chest. “Thank you,” I said, rising to my feet. “I’d like to take a walk around the village. Maybe it’ll help clear my head.”

The elders offered kind smiles, though there was a hint of concern in their eyes. “Of course,” the old woman said, her tone encouraging. “Join us around the fire tonight. It’s where the people of Besaid gather to eat dinner together. You’ll feel more at ease surrounded by warmth and company.”

Grateful for the elders’ invitation, I stepped out of the healing hut and started wandering the village. Besaid was small but lively, its simplicity both comforting and strange. The place felt like something out of a storybook—quaint huts, narrow dirt paths, and a sense of community that I wasn’t used to.

My eyes were drawn to a tall stone building at the far edge of the village, its four arches commanding attention. People flowed in and out of it steadily, as though it were the heart of the settlement.

Near the temple, I spotted two figures in conversation. Lulu stood out immediately, her black dress stark and imposing against the tropical backdrop. Beside her was a man whose appearance couldn’t have been more opposite. His spiked orange hair and loud, mismatched outfit practically screamed for attention. He wore a blue bandana, a yellow-orange shirt, and some kind of blue-and-yellow arm guard. A red-and-white striped wrap circled his bicep, and he carried what looked like… a beach ball?

I smirked at the sight. Between this guy’s ball and Lulu’s doll, Besaid seemed to have a thing for people carrying random objects.

Before I could decide whether to approach, Lulu’s crimson eyes locked onto me. A shiver ran down my spine. There was something about her that was undeniably intimidating—though not entirely in a bad way. Gathering my nerves, I started toward them, hoping this conversation would be less cryptic than our last one.

The man noticed me, his wide grin and crescent-shaped eyes immediately offsetting Lulu’s icy demeanor. “You look like a fish out of water! You sure they healed you alright?” he asked with a booming laugh. “Lu filled me in on what happened—real glad you made it to us, ya?”

Embarrassed, I ran a hand through my hair. I hadn’t seen a mirror since I woke up on that beach, but I could imagine how rough I looked—exhausted, disheveled, and probably still processing everything that had happened.

“He was able to fight back against an elemental fiend,” Lulu interjected smoothly, her tone as composed as ever. “With no prior training, it would seem.”

The man’s eyes widened, his interest visibly piqued. “Whoa! So you can use magic?”

“Uh…” I hesitated, unsure how to answer. “I don’t know what I did.” I glanced at Lulu, her piercing gaze making it impossible to look away. “I was actually hoping you could explain. You seem… skilled in that area.” My voice faltered slightly. The word magic still felt ridiculous coming out of my mouth. Was that really what I’d done? And if so, could I learn to do it again?

For a moment, no one spoke. Lulu’s eyes bore into me, unblinking and unreadable, while the man beside her shifted uncomfortably, like he wasn’t sure whether to stay or leave.

Finally, she tilted her head slightly, and the smallest hint of a smile crossed her lips. Her gaze shifted, scanning me from head to toe as though she were weighing her options. “Smart of you to ask, I’ll think about it,” she said at last, her voice calm and measured. “For now, you should introduce yourself to the other villagers.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and strode toward the temple, her dark figure disappearing through the stone arches.

The man’s reaction was almost comical. His jaw dropped, and he sputtered before letting out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “You must be something else if Lu’s actually considering teaching you. Don’t take it for granted, ya?”

He held out a hand, his grin infectious. “Name’s Wakka, by the way.”

I shook his hand, finding myself smiling despite everything. “Derek.”

“Good to meet ya, Derek. If you ever need anything, just come find me, okay?” His grin widened before he turned and walked off, beach ball in hand.

As I watched him go, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Deciding to explore more of the village, I stuck to the outskirts, trying to get a better sense of the place. It wasn’t big, but it was vibrant—full of life. Villagers moved with purpose, carrying fishing nets, bundles of supplies, or other tools I didn’t recognize.

Every so often, someone would pause to greet me. Their smiles were warm, but their lingering gazes made me feel like I was under a spotlight. I nodded politely each time, though the attention made my skin crawl. By the time I looped back to the center of the village, the bustle had started to die down.

My gaze was drawn again to the tall stone structure at the edge of the land—the temple. There was something imposing about it, even from a distance.

As I stood there, a middle-aged man approached from the side. He didn’t bother to hide his curiosity as he studied me, his eyes sharp but not unfriendly. “That’s the Temple of Yevon,” he said, nodding toward the building. “People go there to pray for many things—health, strength… even guidance.”

I glanced at him but didn’t respond, silently encouraging him to continue.

“I’ve heard about what happened to you,” he added after a moment. “My grandmother is one of the elders. If I were you, I’d go pray to Yevon. Ask for your memories to return. Couldn’t hurt, right?”

I nodded briefly but stayed silent. The man seemed satisfied with that. With a casual wave, he walked off to join a nearby group of villagers. I caught the way they huddled together, whispering while throwing glances in my direction. It wasn’t hard to guess what—or who—they were talking about.

“Oh well,” I muttered under my breath. Watching them for a moment longer, I turned back to the temple. “What have I got to lose?”

The walk up to the temple was short, the stone arches looming larger with every step. By the time I reached them, the crowd had thinned. The steady flow of people I’d noticed earlier had dwindled to just a few stragglers, making the temple feel quieter—less imposing, somehow.

As soon as I stepped inside the temple, it was clear this place was sacred to the people of Besaid. My gaze was immediately drawn to the two massive sculptures carved into the ceiling. One was a woman with long, flowing hair, her serene expression so detailed it felt almost alive. Across from her was a man in ornate robes, his posture commanding yet dignified.

The floors and walls were immaculate, and the care put into maintaining them was obvious. Statues lined the stone walls, each one pristine and radiating a quiet reverence.

A soft, melodic voice echoed through the temple, singing a song in a language I didn’t recognize. The melody was hauntingly beautiful, and I froze, captivated. I glanced around, expecting others to notice it too, but none of the villagers seemed to react. They moved through the temple, their focus on their prayers.

I watched as they approached various statues, kneeling and performing a circular motion with their arms. It struck me as more than just routine—this gesture carried deep meaning for them. I made a mental note of it, figuring it might be important to understand later.

Toward the far end of the temple, I spotted Yuna. She was speaking with an older man dressed in intricate robes. His attire was adorned with elaborate patterns, signaling some kind of authority within the temple.

Even from a distance, I could tell their conversation was serious. Yuna’s respectful posture contrasted with the priest’s calm yet commanding presence. Her expression shifted between attentiveness and determination, like she was absorbing every word. Whatever they were discussing, it was clearly important.

As their conversation ended, Yuna bowed deeply, her movements deliberate and full of respect. She performed the same circular motion I’d seen the villagers use, then turned and caught sight of me. A warm smile spread across her face as she waved me over.

Reluctantly, I crossed the temple, my footsteps echoing softly on the stone floor. The priest turned toward me, his smile kind but observant.

“This is Derek,” Yuna said, her tone gentle but firm. “The man we found outside of Besaid. I was hoping we could allow him refuge here in the village, at least until he feels better.”

The priest studied me in silence, his expression unreadable. I stood my ground, trying not to fidget under his gaze. Finally, he nodded and spoke, his voice warm and steady. “The elders have told me about you. Praise be to Yevon for granting you safe passage to us.”

I worked to keep my face neutral, though the word safe didn’t sit right with me. That journey wasn’t safe by any stretch, but I supposed he wasn’t entirely wrong. If not for Yuna and Lulu, I wouldn’t even be standing here.

“I understand you’ve suffered memory loss,” the priest continued. “Please, if you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask.”

Yuna stood silently beside me, her presence calm but attentive. Though I couldn’t see her face, I could feel her gaze on me, quietly waiting for what I might say next.

Well, he did say not to hesitate. 

Clearing my throat, I decided to be honest. “Unfortunately, my memory loss is… extensive. I can’t recall much of my life before arriving here. I came to the temple hoping something might jog my memory, but nothing feels familiar—not even the statues.”

The reaction was immediate. Gasps echoed around the temple, and several villagers turned to look at me, their wide-eyed expressions making it clear I’d struck a nerve. It was like I’d said something forbidden.

The priest’s expression shifted from surprise to understanding. He stepped closer, his tone calm and instructive. “Ah, I see. What about this statue?” He gestured to the towering figure behind him.

I tilted my head back, studying the massive sculpture. It was far more elaborate than the smaller statues along the walls. The man depicted wore intricately detailed robes with a ceremonial centerpiece. He held a large, ornate staff in one hand, and a crown-like headdress rested atop his head, adding to his commanding presence. His features were so finely crafted they almost seemed idealized, like whoever made this wanted him to look perfect.

Still, I shook my head. “No,” I said simply.

The priest cleared his throat and began to explain. “This is the statue of Lord Braska. Ten years have passed since he became High Summoner. It was only recently that this statue was delivered to our temple.”

I frowned slightly, my curiosity piqued. “What’s a High Summoner?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard. His eyes widened briefly before he composed himself, likely reminding himself of my condition. “A High Summoner is a practitioner of a sacred art, sworn to protect the people of Yevon,” he said, his voice reverent. “Summoners are those blessed with the ability to call forth aeons—powerful entities that answer the prayers of the faithful. These aeons are Yevon’s blessings, the guardians of Spira.”

As he spoke, he brought his hands together and performed the circular gesture of prayer I’d seen earlier. Not wanting to draw more attention to myself, I mimicked the motion as best I could.

The priest’s smile widened, a note of approval in his expression. “Good. Go now, child, and offer your own prayer. May Yevon have mercy on you and guide you through your trials.”

I wandered over to an unoccupied statue, kneeling awkwardly in an attempt to blend in with the other villagers. Mimicking the motions I’d seen earlier, I raised my hands and performed the circular gesture. The movement felt strange, like I was going through the motions of someone else’s ritual, not my own.

Without saying a word, Yuna knelt beside me. Her calm presence was grounding, and I couldn’t help but notice how naturally she moved, as if the prayer was a part of her. Together, we performed the ritual, our gestures synchronized yet worlds apart in purpose. I lingered for a moment after finishing, unsure what I was supposed to feel—or if I was even supposed to feel anything at all. Still, the weight of the moment wasn’t lost on me.

Yuna rose gracefully, and I scrambled to follow her lead. As we stepped outside, I glanced back one last time at the statues. Something about the largest one—the one of the woman—sent an uneasy prickle down my spine. I couldn’t explain why. It wasn’t fear exactly, but a gnawing discomfort that I couldn’t shake.

Pushing the thought aside, I followed Yuna down the temple steps. Just as I started to settle into my stride, she came to an abrupt stop. I nearly collided with her, catching myself at the last second.

“Stop any faster, and I might end up toppling you over,” I muttered, smirking faintly.

Yuna turned slightly, her soft laugh breaking the lingering tension from the temple. The sound was warm and genuine, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere we’d just left. She stretched her arms out toward the sun, tilting her face upward as if soaking in its warmth.

“That was my father,” she said suddenly, her voice quieter now, laced with pride and something heavier. “High Summoner Braska.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the turn in conversation. I studied her expression as she stared into the horizon—distant, but resolute.

“I’m training to become a summoner just like him,” she continued. “One day, I’ll bring joy to the people of Spira.”

The weight in her words hung in the air. After a moment, I asked cautiously, “How did your father bring joy by becoming a summoner?”

Yuna didn’t look at me, her gaze still fixed ahead. “It’s a summoner’s duty to fight against Sin,” she explained, her voice steady but solemn. “If they succeed, their victory brings the Calm—a time of peace, free from Sin’s destruction.”

Her words struck me, and I mulled them over for a moment before speaking. “So… Sin comes back every few years?”

Yuna shook her head, her face unwavering despite the gravity of her response. “In history, it varies. Some Calms are longer than others. My father was the last summoner to defeat Sin ten years ago. But Sin returned less than a year later. Since then, it’s brought nothing but pain and devastation. Entire cities and villages have been lost. Countless lives… taken.”

Her voice never wavered, but the weight of her words was impossible to ignore. I studied her face, noting the quiet strength etched into her features. Despite the sorrow in her voice, she stood tall, her resolve unshaken.

I found myself smiling faintly. I wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was the way she carried herself—calm, determined, unyielding. If a summoner was someone who led by example, I couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for it than Yuna despite her age.

She leaned forward slightly, clasping her hands behind her back in a playful gesture. “Have you found anything here that helps you?” she asked, her voice light but tinged with genuine curiosity.

I sighed, glancing back at the temple looming behind us. “No, nothing that really helps,” I admitted, the weight of my situation pressing down on me again.

We began descending the steps, Yuna close behind. As we reached the bottom, I spotted Lulu and Wakka waiting for us. They stood just a few feet away, their expressions attentive.

Before I could say anything, Yuna spoke again, her voice soft but steady. “Will you tell us everything?”

I paused at the last step, looking over the three of them—Yuna, Wakka, Lulu. There was a brief silence, the kind that comes right before you decide to lay it all on the table.

“I doubt it’ll help,” I said finally, my tone calm but resolute. “But sure, why not.”

Lulu’s sharp crimson eyes flickered with what I thought might be approval. She gestured toward a nearby hut with her usual air of composure. “This way,” she said simply. “We can use this hut to speak privately.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and strode off. I fell into step behind her, the others close behind me.

—

I tried to keep things simple, focusing only on the events that led me here. But that didn’t stop the questions. Some were curious, others more pointed, and I found myself stumbling over how to explain things that seemed ordinary in my world but were completely alien to theirs.

When I mentioned motorized vehicles and advanced technology, Wakka’s eyes widened before he practically exploded with indignation. “You mean machina? That stuff is forbidden! It’s bad news, ya? Goes against everything we believe in,” he said, launching into an impassioned rant about the dangers and moral failings of machinery.

I opened my mouth, trying to figure out how to counter such a strong reaction, but Lulu cut him off with a calm yet sharp tone. “Different worlds,” she said pointedly, “mean different rules. Perhaps what is forbidden here is normal elsewhere.”

Yuna, as always, stayed silent, her patient gaze locked on me, waiting for me to continue.

As Wakka’s tirade petered out, a sudden thought struck me. “Wait,” I muttered, patting my jeans with growing urgency. My phone. If it had survived the journey, maybe—just maybe—it could help me. I searched every pocket, my movements growing more frantic as the seconds passed.

Nothing.

I slumped back, the reality of its absence hitting me like a punch to the gut.

Yuna noticed immediately. “What’s wrong?” she asked, leaning forward, her voice full of concern.

“I had a small device—a phone,” I explained, my voice heavy with disappointment. 

“It’s something we use in my world to communicate with people, no matter how far away they are.” I paused, feeling how strange it sounded to describe something so mundane, but here in Besaid, it’s as if it were a miracle. “If it was with me, it might’ve been left behind on the beach.”

Her eyes lit up with wonder. “That sounds… incredible!” she said, the sincerity in her voice catching me off guard. “If it’s still there, we should look for it.”

Wakka frowned but eventually gave a reluctant nod. “If it’ll help ya, maybe we should. But keep it away from the villagers, ya? They wouldn’t understand.”

Before I could respond, Lulu crossed her arms and shook her head. “It’s too dangerous to go now,” she said firmly. “The sun is setting, and the forest isn’t safe at night. If it’s on the beach, it’ll still be there tomorrow.”

I sighed, letting her words sink in. Even if I found the phone, what then? There wouldn’t be any cellular networks here, and without a charger, it’d be nothing more than a useless brick. The idea of using it to contact anyone back home was starting to feel more like a fleeting dream than a real possibility.

She was right, of course. There was no point in risking anything tonight. “If it’s still there, it’ll wait,” I said, nodding toward her. “We’ll check tomorrow.”

Yuna’s hopeful expression softened into understanding, while Wakka just shrugged and muttered something about machina under his breath.

The silence in the hut stretched for a moment, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Then, out of nowhere, a cheerful voice from outside broke the tension.

“Dinner time!” a child called, their shout echoing through the village as they darted past the huts.

Wakka grinned and motioned for me to follow. “Come on, Derek! Bet you’re real hungry, ya?”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

The evening meal was a communal affair, everyone gathered around a large fire in the village center. Bowls and plates of food were passed around, filled with vibrant, colorful dishes that smelled amazing—though I couldn’t begin to guess what half of it was. My stomach growled in protest, and curiosity took a backseat to hunger.

Wakka, ever the enthusiast, piled my plate high with food. I didn’t have the heart—or the appetite—to argue, so I accepted it with a nod of thanks. The first bite was a revelation. Salty, savory, and bursting with flavor I couldn’t begin to describe.

Before I knew it, I was devouring everything on my plate with reckless abandon.

A low groan of satisfaction slipped out of me, catching the attention of a few kids nearby. Their giggles started quietly but grew louder the more they watched me shovel food into my mouth like a starving man.

Some parents tried to hush them, apologizing for their behavior, but I waved them off with a grin. “It’s fine,” I said, my voice light and amused. “Let them laugh. I probably look ridiculous right now.”

That was all the encouragement the kids needed. They giggled louder, pointing and whispering to one another, and I decided to play along. I exaggerated my eating, making a show of how ravenous I was, and their laughter turned infectious. Soon, even the adults were smiling.

For a moment, the strangeness of my arrival, the tension of the day, and the weight of the unknown faded into the background. We weren’t strangers anymore—just a group of people sharing a meal and a little laughter under the stars.

I felt a little less alone.

—

As the night wore on and bellies were full, the circle around the fire began to thin. Families retreated to their homes, bidding each other quiet goodnights. The crackling fire cast long shadows as Wakka approached me, nudging my shoulder with a tired but content smile.

“Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping,” he said, motioning for me to follow.

He led me to a larger hut near the edge of the village. The building had a sturdier frame, its wooden walls reinforced with stone in places, and there was a faintly worn symbol etched above the entrance.

“This here’s the Crusaders’ hut,” Wakka explained, his voice dipping slightly, as if out of respect. “They’ve got plenty of empty beds these days… and I already asked if you could take one.” His hand rested heavily on my shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring. “Get yourself a good night’s rest, ya? We’ve got some exploring to do tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Wakka,” I said, appreciating the gesture. “Goodnight.”

Inside, the hut was dimly lit by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling, its flickering light casting soft shadows against the walls. There were eight beds in total, four lining each side of the back wall. Two of the beds closest to the entrance were already occupied, the faint rise and fall of the sleeping bodies barely noticeable.

I moved quietly to an empty bed along the far wall, careful not to disturb the others. The mattress was simple—a thin layer of padding over a wooden frame—but to me, it felt like heaven after the day’s events.

As I lay down, exhaustion wrapped around me like a heavy blanket, and my aching muscles sank into the mattress. The faint whistle of the wind outside and the distant sounds of the village slowly began to lull me to sleep. My eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, and for the first time since arriving in this strange world, I allowed myself to relax.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, rest was all I needed.

As I stared up at the ceiling, my thoughts began to wander. Unbidden, they landed on Wakka—his easy grin, his endless optimism, and… the way his muscles seemed to ripple whenever he moved.

“Whoa, okay. Stop. Jesus,” I muttered, jolting upright in the bed. My face burned as I ran a hand through my hair, trying to shake the imagery from my mind. That was the last thing I needed to be thinking about right now.

I flopped back onto the pillow with a groan, squeezing my eyes shut and willing myself to relax. Focus, Derek. Waves on the beach. Cool sand. Slowly, the tension began to ebb from my body, and I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

—

The lively sounds of villagers outside woke me the next morning. I could hear muffled conversations, children laughing, and the occasional clatter of tools. Blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the hut, I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

The room was empty. It was clear I had slept in. Stretching stiff muscles, I took a moment to gather myself before stepping outside.

The village was alive with activity. People moved with purpose, completing their daily tasks, while children darted between huts, their laughter ringing through the air. To my surprise, the wary glances from yesterday were almost gone. Instead, I was greeted with warm smiles and cheerful “good mornings” as I passed.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

The booming voice cut through the noise, and I looked up to see Wakka waving both arms high in the air with an enthusiasm that bordered on embarrassment.

Beside him stood Lulu, arms crossed, looking unimpressed. The way she glared at Wakka all but screamed, ‘why are you like this?’

Heat crept up my neck as I approached them, my thoughts flashing back to last night’s ridiculous fantasy. I forced the memory aside, offering a sheepish smile. “Sorry. Guess I was more tired than I thought.”

Lulu, who seemed far less guarded than yesterday, allowed a faint smile to cross her lips. “Wakka tried to wake you,” she said dryly. “He claims you nearly set him on fire in your sleep.”

That got my attention. My gaze snapped to Wakka, who flushed bright red, scratching the back of his head. “Ah, yeah, sorry about that, man. I thought you’d wanna get up early for today. But, uh…” He chuckled nervously. “You scared me half to death! You rolled over, and your hand was covered in fire! Nearly got my face—would’ve made one heck of a scar, ya?”

I stared at him, my stomach sinking. “I did it again?” I muttered, half to myself.

Lulu’s sharp eyes flicked to me immediately. Her tone, calm but analytical. “You have a natural gift with magic,” she observed. “Though I will say, the way you cast it is rather… unorthodox.”

“Unorthodox how?” I asked, my frown deepening.

“It’s instinctual for one,” Lulu replied, folding her arms as she studied me. “Most mages require deliberate focus, chants, or gestures to channel magic. But with you, it seems to happen… unconsciously. Almost like your body reacts on its own.”

“That’s… not great,” I admitted, trying to process her words.

Wakka, ever the optimist, clapped me on the back with a laugh. “Don’t let Lulu scare ya too much! We’ll figure it out. Besides, if you’re good at magic, that just means you’re gonna be even better in battles, ya?”

I managed a weak laugh, but unease churned in my gut. Magic wasn’t supposed to come this easily—or this unpredictably.

Lulu’s calm voice cut through my thoughts. “Spells are normally cast from a distance,” she explained. “And the elements are summoned through incantations, either spoken aloud or mentally recited. But you don’t know these incantations, do you?”

I shook my head.

She nodded thoughtfully. “It’s also unusual that the elements you summon come into direct contact with your skin. I’m fairly certain I could replicate the same effect, but if I were to summon fire into my hand, I’d get burned.”

I raised my hand, staring at it like it held the answer. “So, what does that mean?”

Lulu’s lips curved slightly, the faintest trace of a smile as she seemed to relish the intellectual puzzle. “It means one of two things: either you have such fine control over the elements that you’ve unconsciously molded the magic to protect your skin, or you have an exceptionally high tolerance for magic—so high, in fact, that low-level spells don’t harm you.” Her eyes glinted with curiosity as she tilted her head. “It doesn’t, however, explain how you’re able to summon elements in the first place if you don’t know the incantations. If you don’t mind me asking, what were you thinking about when you had defended yourself against that flan?”

“…Flan?” I blinked, my mind briefly conjuring up the image of the creamy dessert from back home.

Lulu raised an elegant eyebrow but clarified patiently, “The elemental fiend we fought the other day.”

“Oh.” My face warmed as I realized what she meant. “Right, that. Uh…” I scratched the back of my neck, thinking back to the fight. “I remember picturing the bolt of lightning you cast. Other than that… I don’t really have a clue.”

Lulu considered this for a moment, her eyes narrowing in contemplation, but her train of thought was interrupted by Wakka’s voice cutting through.

“So does that mean you’re agreeing to teach him?” Wakka waggled his eyebrows mischievously, his grin wide as he leaned slightly toward Lulu.

I smirked as Lulu’s sharp, disapproving gaze shifted toward him. To my amusement, Wakka seemed completely immune to the look, laughing openly as if this were some kind of familiar routine.

With a sigh, Lulu turned back to me, her tone calm and decisive. “Well, it would be in everyone’s best interest if I taught you. We can’t have you burning down the tents by accident.”

Her words were serious, but I caught the subtle kindness beneath her matter-of-fact tone.

I let out a short laugh, feeling a mix of gratitude and nervousness. “Thanks, but I hadn’t really thought about that…” My grin faltered as a sudden realization struck me. My eyes widened. “…what if I do burn something down?”

Wakka clapped a hand on my shoulder, his grin as wide and reassuring as ever. “Relax, ya? Lulu’s got it covered. You’ll be fine.”

Lulu sighed quietly, her gaze steady. “With practice and guidance, we’ll ensure that doesn’t happen. Magic is a gift, but it’s also a responsibility. The sooner you learn to control it, the safer we all will be.”

I nodded, letting her words sink in. The idea of wielding magic had seemed strange, almost fantastical at first, like something out of a dream. But now, it feels different. It was a challenge—and a vital one. If I was going to survive in this world, I needed to learn quickly. With Lulu’s guidance, maybe I had a shot at turning this unpredictable, dangerous power into something useful.

Before I could get too lost in thought, a familiar, light voice rang out, cutting through the conversation.

“I’m sorry, everyone!”

We all turned to see Yuna jogging toward us, slightly out of breath. “I didn’t mean to take so long!”

Lulu’s expression softened as she addressed her. “You don’t have to come with us, Yuna.”

“Ha, you’ve got two guardians already, we’ve got it covered,” Wakka chimed in with his usual grin.

The word “guardian” stuck in my mind, but before I could ask what it meant, Yuna spoke up, her tone carrying a hint of defiance. “You two leave me behind all the time! I’m going to be a summoner soon, so this is good practice, isn’t it?”

Lulu and Wakka exchanged uncertain glances, a silent conversation passing between them, before Lulu finally relented. “As long as you stick close,” she said, her tone calm but carrying a subtle warning.

“We’ll call it a tiny pilgrimage!” Yuna added cheerfully.

“Only summoners go on pilgrimages, and you’re not a summoner yet,” Wakka teased, laughing at her flustered reaction.

With that settled, the four of us began our ascent out of Besaid. The slope felt steeper than it had the day before, but the pace was unhurried. As we climbed, my thoughts churned, and the question that had been nagging at me finally escaped my lips.

“So, the two of you are Guardians?”

Wakka turned his head, his expression light. “Ya, both Lulu and I have been Guardians before. And once Yuna’s apprenticeship is over, we’ll be her Guardians too.”

I nodded, the answer sparking more curiosity. “And what do Guardians do, exactly?”

“Guardians are the protectors of summoners,” Lulu explained, her calm voice steady as she walked. “A summoner must travel to various temples to pray. If the prayers are heard, the aeons of those temples grant their aid. As Guardians, we protect summoners on their journey to these temples and, ultimately, we fight alongside them against Sin.”

I couldn’t help but blink in surprise. “So, you’ve fought Sin before?”

“No,” Lulu said, her tone measured as she paused briefly. “The last summoner we served as Guardians for was Father Zuke. He ended his pilgrimage halfway through. We never reached the final aeon.”

“We just came back to the village a few months ago,” Wakka added, his voice carrying a hint of reflection.

I hummed in thought, my gaze flicking to Yuna. She walked just ahead of me, her determination evident in her stride. A small smile crept onto my face as I spoke. “But when Yuna becomes a summoner, there’s no way she’d give up that easily.”

Yuna turned to me, her eyes wide with surprise before a bright, resolute smile spread across her face. “That’s right!” she said, her voice brimming with confidence.

Strangely, neither Wakka nor Lulu added to her statement. Instead, a contemplative silence fell over the group. It wasn’t disapproval I sensed from them, but something unspoken—something heavier.

Feeling the weight of that silence, I chose not to press further. Instead, I focused on the path ahead, the rhythmic sound of our footsteps filling the gaps left by the conversation.

—

As we neared the top of the slope, my gaze caught the faint scorch marks left by Lulu’s magic from the day before. The blackened patches on the ground were an eerie reminder of the danger I’d faced. My eyes drifted toward the forest, and the vivid memory of fear gripped me for a moment. I inhaled deeply, steadying myself before nodding to the others.

Lulu stepped forward, her voice calm and composed. “We’ll be following you from here. Hopefully, you’ll be able to recall the path you took.”

I swallowed, trying to push aside my apprehension. The memory of my panicked escape felt fragmented at best, but I reminded myself that I wasn’t alone this time. With the group close behind, I stepped into the forest, my focus narrowing as I tried to retrace my steps.

The dense trees pressed in on all sides, their towering forms casting deep shadows. The forest seemed endless, unfamiliar, and the sounds of the beach felt like a distant dream. No landmarks stood out, and I quickly realized how little I remembered from before.

The growing tension among us was palpable, each moment stretching longer than the last. Then, suddenly, the stillness shattered.

The rustling of leaves overhead jolted me, my instincts flaring. “Move!” I shouted.

I dove forward into a roll, landing in a crouch, while the others leapt back just in time. Two massive flans plummeted from the trees, their unsettling forms landing with a wet squelch. They blocked the path, separating me from the rest of the group.

Rising to my feet, I felt my fear morph into something sharper, more focused. My senses sharpened as the world seemed to slow. Without thinking, my mind turned to lightning, and the memory of its power surged to the forefront.

A hum vibrated through my fingertips, familiar and alive. I glanced down at my left hand, watching as it became enveloped in crackling energy. A small, almost feral smile tugged at my lips as I faced the flan before me. This felt natural—instinctual.

Behind the fiends, Wakka’s cheer rang out, his voice booming with excitement. Yuna gasped, her awe audible even from where I stood. Lulu, ever composed, wasted no time. A bolt of lightning shot from her hand, striking the flan near them squarely in the head. But this one was tougher, larger than the fiends from yesterday. The spell barely staggered it.

The second flan, however, had its sights set on me. It advanced, forcing me to retreat into the narrowing space between the trees. My mind raced as Lulu’s words echoed in my head: 

Magic was meant to be used at a distance.

Raising my left hand toward the sky, I willed the energy to coalesce. With a sharp motion, I brought my hand down. Lightning roared from above, striking the flan directly on its head.

The creature reeled but didn’t fall, its gelatinous body rippling as it closed the gap. I needed more time. My thoughts shifted as I clenched my right fist against my chest. 

I need to stop it. I need to freeze it.

An image formed in my mind—a projectile, something explosive. I swung my hand outward, willing the magic to manifest. A glowing sphere of cold magic shot forward, too low to hit the flan directly.

Move.

The thought was sharp and clear, and to my shock, the sphere obeyed. It veered upward mid-flight, slipping into the flan’s gaping mouth.

The moment it connected, the sphere expanded violently. Ice erupted from within, jagged spikes bursting outward in a frozen starburst. The flan writhed, its body immobilized by the frost.

Behind me, I heard Lulu call out a warning, but I barely registered it. My ice spell had worked—I had made it work. For the first time, I felt like I might actually survive in this world.

Exhausted, I slumped back against a tree, my chest heaving with heavy breaths. My energy was drained, leaving me lightheaded. Glancing at the frozen flan, I noted it wasn’t quite dead yet, but at least it was incapacitated.

The others regrouped, quickly dispatching the first fiend before circling the second. Their expressions ranged from disbelief to concern. For the first time, I thought I saw a glimmer of approval in Lulu’s usually stoic eyes.

Yuna stepped forward, casting a warm healing spell over me. The soothing light spread through my body, easing the worst of my fatigue, though it didn’t erase it entirely.

“I’m not hurt,” I said, holding up a hand as I tried to steady my breathing. “Just… really tired from doing… that.”

Wakka, still brimming with energy, stepped in to finish the job. With a sharp kick, he sent his ball spinning into the frozen flan, shattering it completely.

As the fiend dissolved into a faint mist, glowing orbs—four this time—rose from its remains and drifted skyward.

“They’re called pyreflies,” Yuna explained softly, her gaze following the glowing remnants when she noticed I was staring at them as well. “I haven’t fully understood them yet, but they’re said to be the embodiment of spiritual energy.”

Lulu’s sharp voice cut through the moment. “We need to move. Let’s get to the water before more of them find us.” Her piercing gaze shifted to me, and her words carried a weight of expectation. “And once we’re there, we are going to have a serious conversation about what you just did.”

No one argued. The gravity of the moment lingered as we resumed our journey, the unspoken questions about my abilities hanging as heavily as the trees surrounding us.

Chapter Text

The thin line of trees ahead gave way to rays of light spilling through the canopy, the promise of open space just beyond. Wakka suddenly broke into a run, his steps light and eager as the faint sound of water reached his ears. Yuna followed at a jog, her smile growing as she tried to match his pace. I kept my stride steady, Lulu falling into step beside me as the beach gradually came into view.

The soft crunch of sand beneath my boots gave way to an open, sweeping shoreline. My eyes followed Wakka as he bolted straight for the water, diving in with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t seen the ocean in years. Waves splashed around him as he surfaced, laughing, water streaming down his face.

“That explains the beach ball,” I muttered, a smirk tugging at my lips.

Lulu, walking beside me, tilted her head slightly, her crimson eyes flashing with brief confusion before she let out a quiet laugh.

I let my gaze drift over the beach, scanning the sand for any sign of… well, anything that might be familiar. As I moved, Lulu followed a step behind, her calm presence almost unnerving. She hummed thoughtfully, the sound breaking the quiet between us.

“What is it?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder at her.

“Just thinking,” she said, her voice smooth but tinged with dry amusement. “After your… interesting display in the forest earlier, I expected you to be more frantic about finding your machina. But here you are, calm as ever.”

I paused, brushing some sand off my boot as I considered her words. “I do want to find it,” I admitted, my voice quieter now. “I just… don’t think it’ll work here. Not the way it used to, anyway.”

Before I could add more, something glinted just beneath the sand. My pulse quickened as I jogged forward, dropping to one knee. I dug my fingers into the warm grains and pulled the object free.

“Well, will you look at that,” I muttered, holding up the familiar device.

My phone’s screen was a web of cracks, jagged lines cutting through what was once a sleek surface. I brushed off some of the sand clinging to its edges and pressed the power button, half-expecting it to be completely dead.

Behind me, Wakka and Yuna wandered over, curiosity drawing them in. Wakka leaned in close, practically breathing down my neck, while Yuna crouched beside me, her wide eyes locked on the device.

To my surprise, the screen flickered to life, its faint glow distorted but functional.

Wakka recoiled, suspicion narrowing his eyes as he took a cautious step back. “What is that thing?”

“It’s just a phone,” I said absently, focusing on the screen. Navigating the cracked interface was a challenge, but one name stood out on the display: my sister’s.

My heart skipped a beat as hope sparked in my chest. Without hesitation, I tapped to call her.

“Call Failed.”

The words flashed on the screen, stark and final.

I stared at the message for a long moment, the weight of its meaning settling heavily in my chest. Slowly, I slid the phone into my back pocket and stood, brushing the sand from my hands.

Wakka and Yuna fumbled for words, their expressions shifting between concern and sympathy. Before they could say anything, I cut through the silence. “Oh well,” I said, forcing my tone to remain light. “It was a long shot.”

Lulu studied me, her gaze piercing as if she could see through the casual front I was putting up. “So, what’s your plan now?” she asked, her voice measured.

I looked out toward the horizon, the sound of the waves steadying my thoughts. “The rift that brought me here,” I said simply.

Wakka scratched the back of his head, exchanging a look with Yuna. “But…” He hesitated, his tone uncertain. “We’ve never seen anything like that before. Not even close.”

“It’s true,” Lulu added, folding her arms. “With destruction on that scale, if something like that existed in Spira, we’d have heard of it.”

I clenched my jaw but kept quiet. The ocean stretched endlessly before me, a reminder of just how far from home I really was. If the answers weren’t here, then I’d just have to keep searching.

“I believe you.”

Yuna’s soft but firm voice pulled me from my thoughts. Her mismatched green and blue eyes met mine, filled with quiet sincerity. “Just because we haven’t seen it doesn’t mean it isn’t real. If you keep searching, I’m sure you’ll find it.”

For a moment, I just stared at her, caught off guard by the sheer honesty in her words. She meant them.

Lulu allowed herself a faint smile. “I never said we should give up,” she said, her tone lighter but no less resolute. “I’m just making sure you know what you’re up against. The rift that pulled you here is… unheard of.”

“Yeah, man,” Wakka chimed in, grinning brightly. “We’ll keep looking. No way we’re leaving you to figure this out on your own.”

A wave of relief settled over me, and I exhaled deeply. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear those words until now.

—

By the time we reached the sloped path back toward Besaid, the sun was dipping low, painting the sky in rich oranges and soft pinks. Wakka and Yuna walked ahead, their laughter carried on the evening breeze. Lulu stayed beside me, her measured pace matching mine.

“I saw both spells you cast during that fight,” she said after a moment, her voice as direct as ever.

I turned my head, giving her a small nod to show I was listening.

“The first spell,” she continued, “was impressive for someone with no formal training. But the second…” Her gaze shifted to meet mine, searching. “I’ve never seen magic like that before. That wasn’t beginner-level.”

I hesitated, the truth weighing on me. “I don’t know how I did that,” I admitted, cringing inwardly at how pathetic the words sounded.

Lulu’s eyes narrowed slightly—not in judgment, but in thought. After a moment, she gave a small nod. “I believe you.”

Her voice softened, but then she added, “We’ll start lessons at daybreak tomorrow.”

The finality in her tone startled me, but I nodded instinctively. “Yes, ma’am,” I said with a faint smirk.

Her lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. “We need to get your magic under control if you’re going to stay in the village. There are also exercises to test your limits—endurance is just as important as power. Without it, you’ll burn out quickly.”

As she spoke, her words became a steady stream of plans and strategies, her sharp focus intimidating but also oddly reassuring.

I found myself watching her face, noticing something I hadn’t before. Was that… embarrassment?

“Lulu.”

She stopped mid-sentence, caught off guard.

“Thanks,” I said simply, my voice quiet but genuine.

Her eyes widened briefly before she shook her head, a small laugh escaping her. “Don’t thank me yet,” she said, her composure quickly returning. “Let’s see if you survive the lessons first.”

—

The crowd of villagers gathered at the entrance to Besaid felt like a living wave, moving with shared purpose and reverence. Children broke free from their parents, racing toward Yuna with uncontained excitement. Their laughter and cheers rang through the air as they surrounded her, their awe and admiration plain to see. The elders, meanwhile, stood back, their hands clasped in prayer as they bowed their heads. Their soft murmurings of thanks to “Yevon” carried on the breeze, reverent and solemn.

I couldn’t help but feel like an outsider watching all of this unfold. The weight of their faith was unmistakable, almost tangible in the way they welcomed Yuna and even Wakka and Lulu with the same reverence. For them, this wasn’t just tradition; it was a cornerstone of their lives. A small, uncomfortable knot twisted in my chest as I took it all in.

Religion wasn’t foreign to me—I’d grown up surrounded by it. Back home, prayers, rituals, and holy days had been as much a part of my upbringing as school or family dinners. But this? This was something else entirely. The devotion here wasn’t passive or private. It was embedded into their identity, woven into every gesture, every whispered word. And standing among them, I felt strangely out of place, like an observer instead of a participant.

When it was clear the formalities were winding down, I glanced at the group. “I’m going to head back for a bit,” I said quietly, my voice barely audible over the lively chatter of the crowd. Wakka gave a quick nod of acknowledgment, and Yuna smiled warmly in understanding. After exchanging promises to regroup for dinner, I broke away, following the path back to the Crusaders’ hut.

The tent came into view quickly, its simple structure barely stirring in the gentle breeze. Inside, two men sat at a weathered table, their conversation halting as I entered. Their eyes turned toward me, curious but not unfriendly. Recognition flickered in my mind—these were the same men who’d been passed out in the hut the night before.

Clearing my throat, I stepped further in. “Uh, hi. I’m Derek,” I began, trying to strike a balance between casual and respectful. “I… ended up here last night after everything that happened. Hope I didn’t, uh, intrude too much.”

The older of the two, a man with bright red hair and a faint scar across his cheek, nodded as I spoke. “Luzzu,” he introduced himself, his tone steady and direct. “And this is Gatta.” He gestured to his companion, a younger man with dark hair and an expression that was equal parts curiosity and reserve.

“It’s no problem,” Luzzu added after a beat. “These huts are for travelers as much as Crusaders. You needed shelter, and you found it.”

Gatta remained quiet, his gaze studying me as if trying to piece together my story. The silence between the four walls stretched just a moment too long, and Luzzu seemed to pick up on it. With a glance at Gatta, he rose from his seat. “Come on,” he said with a jerk of his head. “We’ve got patrolling to do.”

Gatta hesitated but followed without question, sparing me a brief, curious look before stepping outside.

As the flap of the tent settled back into place, I exhaled deeply, the tension in my shoulders finally releasing. Alone at last. Crossing the small space, I headed straight for the cot I’d claimed the night before. My shoes hit the floor with soft thuds as I kicked them off, and I sank onto the bed with a sigh.

The canvas roof above me stretched taut, the fading light of the day filtering through in muted shades of orange. Lying back, I let my mind drift, replaying the events of the day in vivid detail.

The forest. The fight. The surge of power that had coursed through me like a current, sharp and alive. That feeling—of being strong, of standing my ground—was intoxicating. My fingers twitched as if the memory of magic still lingered in my veins.

But even as the satisfaction settled in, another thought pushed its way forward, unwelcome and heavy. Home. My family. Were they safe? Had they escaped whatever chaos the rift had unleashed? My chest tightened, and I shut my eyes, trying to will the thoughts away.

I pictured my sister instead. Calculative, determined, always the one with a plan. If anyone could handle this, it was her. She would have done everything in her power to keep our parents safe. I had to believe that.

Turning onto my side, I faced the canvas wall of the hut, the coolness of the fabric a small comfort. I couldn’t let myself spiral. Feeling homesick was natural, sure, but dwelling on what I couldn’t change wasn’t going to help.

Survival. That’s what mattered now. Learning to navigate this world, understanding its people and their ways—that had to come first. If I could do that, maybe—just maybe—I’d find my way home.

With a deep breath, I closed my eyes, letting the day’s exhaustion pull me under. The sounds of the village outside softened, fading into the background as sleep finally took hold.

—

What was supposed to be a quick nap turned out to be far longer than planned. I woke groggily, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I glanced around the large, dimly lit space. My gaze landed on two sleeping figures stretched out on beds a few feet away. The stillness of their forms and the faint hum of nocturnal insects told me all I needed to know—it was far too early for anyone to be awake.

Turning my head, I peered through the small window to my left. The night sky greeted me, a canvas of stars scattered across the inky expanse.

“Well, shit,” I muttered under my breath, realizing I’d missed dinner entirely. With a sigh, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, feet meeting the cool ground as I stood.

Moving quietly to avoid disturbing the others, I padded out of the sleeping area and into the front of the hut. A ceramic plate sat on the table to my right, neatly wrapped in bamboo leaves, accompanied by a tall glass of water with a similar cover. Curious, I stepped closer. Scrawled across the leaves in dark ink were the words: “Didn’t want to wake you. Eat up.”

A faint smile tugged at my lips. Settling into a chair, I unwrapped the food and murmured a quiet thanks to whoever had thought of me. The scent of the meal was earthy and comforting, and I dug in eagerly, savoring every bite.

I was halfway through when a sound pricked at the edge of my awareness—distant, faint, but enough to set me on edge. I chewed slowly, pausing to see if it was just my imagination. When the sound came once more, I quickly swallowed the bite, downing the rest of the water in large gulps, and rose to investigate.

Pulling back the cloth that covered the entrance, I stepped outside into the cool night air. My eyes scanned the village, sweeping over the quiet huts and the dying embers of the central fire pit. Nothing out of place. The only sounds were the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of insects.

Huffing out a quiet sigh, I shook my head. Maybe it really was my imagination. 

I started walking, keeping my steps light as I moved between the huts. My eyes and ears stayed alert, searching for any hint of the disturbance. The silence persisted, and after circling the area without finding anything, I began to feel foolish.

Just as I reached the Crusaders’ hut again, a rough, guttural grunt echoed from near the village entrance. My breath hitched, adrenaline sharpening my senses. That was no figment of my imagination.

I moved quietly toward the sound, fully alert now. The scene came into view quickly—a towering figure, covered in fur and standing far taller than an average man, was holding a lance. The beast’s stance was combative, its blade lowered toward the ground but ready to strike.

Two fiends stood before it. The first resembled a hyena, moving low and fast on four legs. The second was airborne, a winged creature that darted with an almost mocking agility.

I watched as the beast lunged forward, taking down the grounded fiend with a single, powerful strike. But as it turned to attack the flying creature, it faltered. The fiend flitted just out of reach, retaliating with sharp, precise strikes before retreating to safety. The beast growled low in frustration, its movements growing sluggish.

It wasn’t hard to see the creature’s intent—it was guarding the village entrance, defending it against the fiends. Or at least that’s what I hoped. Wild or not, it was clearly struggling.

The flying fiend dove again, its claws raking across the beast’s shoulder. The creature fell to one knee, panting heavily, but it still refused to retreat.

I hesitated, weighing my options. If I stepped in and the beast turned out to be a threat, I’d have to deal with it too. But watching it struggle to hold its ground, I couldn’t just stand by.

Drawing a deep breath, I focused. Heat flared along my right arm, pooling in my palm. I shaped the spell in my mind, folding my fingers inward before swinging my arm out. A burst of flame shot forward, illuminating the night as it closed in on the flying fiend.

The creature twisted in midair, trying to dodge, but I willed the flame to follow. It collided with a bright, fiery explosion, sending the fiend plummeting to the ground in a cascade of ash. Pyreflies scattered upward, their soft glow painting the dark sky.

I kept my stance firm, my gaze locking on the beast. It had turned to face me, its lance raised and pointed in my direction. Electricity crackled between my fingers in response as I waited.

The moment stretched, tense and silent. The beast’s labored breaths were loud in the stillness, its body visibly worn from the fight. One well-placed spell would have been enough to end it, but I held my ground, waiting.

Finally, the creature lowered its weapon. A low huff escaped its mouth, and it shook its head as if to dismiss me entirely. Without another glance, it turned and stalked off into the darkness, its steps surprisingly light given his size.

I remained at the entrance, watching until it disappeared from sight. My heartbeat slowed as the tension ebbed away, and the faint light of dawn began to creep across the horizon.

The villagers would be waking soon. Whatever the beast’s motives, it didn’t seem to be coming back.

When I returned to the Crusaders’ hut, Luzzu and Gatta were already up, both fully dressed and ready for the day. My sudden appearance startled them, and Gatta was the first to speak.

“We were just about to look for you,” he said, his tone a mix of concern and curiosity. “You didn’t finish your food, and we got—”

A firm nudge from Luzzu cut him off.

“Suspicious,” Luzzu finished with a pointed look at the younger man before turning to me. “Forgive him. It’s not you we were suspicious of, but leaving so abruptly without finishing your dinner seemed odd. We were just about to check on you.”

Tiredly, I filled them in on what had happened during the night, from the fiends to the beast and the fight at the entrance. Their expressions shifted from mild concern to sharp interest.

When I finished, they exchanged a quick glance before nodding in unison. Without another word, they rushed out, likely heading straight for the village entrance.

I stood there for a moment, the adrenaline still lingering as I replayed the night’s events in my mind. Whatever that beast was, it wasn’t just a wild creature. But whether it was friend or foe remained to be seen.

No longer in the mood for food, I wrapped up what was left of my dinner. Stalking back to the bed I’d claimed earlier, I set the wrapped plate down near the pillow. A quiet reminder to myself to finish it before the day’s end.

Stepping out of the hut, I found Besaid stirring with life. Villagers were busy tending to their daily tasks—hanging laundry, prepping food, or mending nets. The air was filled with a quiet hum of normalcy, but something near the village entrance caught my eye.

A small crowd had gathered around Luzzu and Gatta, who stood at attention, their postures stiff and professional. From the corner of my vision, I spotted movement, and Lulu’s familiar figure approached.

“So, what happened?” she asked, her tone calm but curious.

I turned toward her, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

“Luzzu told me you went out last night and defended the village,” she clarified.

A startled laugh escaped me. “That’s painting a completely different picture.”

“I know,” she said with a slight smile. “That’s why I wanted to hear it from you.”

Straight to the point, as always. It was oddly refreshing.

“There was a beast,” I began, “covered in fur, carrying a lance. It was fighting off two fiends. I wasn’t sure if it was a friend or foe at first. I only stepped in because it was struggling to deal with the flying one.”

Lulu’s smile faded at the mention of the beast. “Was he alright?” she asked, her tone softer now, tinged with concern.

“He was injured,” I admitted, “but he managed to stalk off into the forest… well, he pointed his lance at me first, then disappeared into the forest. I waited for a while, but he never came back.”

Without another word, Lulu turned sharply and headed toward one of the larger tents near the temple. I followed, watching as she slipped inside. Unsure of what to do, I lingered outside, trying not to fidget.

A few moments later, both Lulu and Yuna emerged from the tent. Yuna’s expression was clouded with worry.

“Did you see where he went?” she asked, her voice urgent.

I hesitated, unsure how much help I could be. “I only saw the general direction. It was still dark, so I didn’t catch much else.” A pang of guilt hit me as I added, “Who is he? I’ve never seen him around the village before.”

“Kimahri,” Lulu said, her tone as steady as ever. “He doesn’t usually stay in Besaid. He wanders the outskirts, keeping fiends away from the village.” She glanced at Yuna. “He’s been watching over Yuna since she was a child.”

“That explains the defensiveness,” I muttered, recalling how he’d turned his lance on me after the fight. “He didn’t seem too badly hurt—he had enough energy to threaten me, at least. But if he’s still wandering the forest injured, it could be dangerous.”

Lulu nodded in agreement. “I thought the same. It would be best to check on him.”

“Where’s Wakka?” I asked.

At that, Lulu closed her eyes and let out a slow, exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “He left early to practice with his blitzball team,” she said. “We’ll have to do this without him.”

“The villagers will let Wakka know where we went if he comes back in time,” Yuna said firmly. “Let’s find Kimahri quickly.”

With that, the three of us made our way to the village entrance. Luzzu and Gatta were still stationed there, their faces clouded with hesitation as they saw us approach. For a moment, it looked like they might try to block our path, but Lulu stepped forward, her piercing gaze more than enough to make them step aside.

We moved quickly, leaving the village behind. Tracks in the dirt led us deeper into a denser part of the forest, one we hadn’t yet explored. The change in scenery was unnerving; the trees were larger here, their thick canopies casting heavy shadows despite the daylight.

A new forest could mean new fiends. We didn’t have to wait long to find out.

The first fiends came in pairs, snarling and charging with reckless abandon. At first, I felt the same nervous energy I always did when a battle began, but as we fought, something shifted. Muscle memory was starting to take over. Battles were becoming second nature.

I focused on each spell like it was a lesson, practicing precision and power with every cast. Fire, ice, water, and thunder—I cycled through them all, honing my control. The strength of each spell varied depending on my focus, something Lulu noticed and quickly capitalized on. Together, we began targeting each fiend’s elemental weakness, dispatching them quickly and efficiently.

The more we fought, the more confident I felt. It was like my body knew what to do, even if my mind was still catching up.

As we pressed deeper into the forest, a distant roar shattered the stillness.

“Kimahri!” Yuna cried, breaking into a sprint.

“Yuna, wait!” Lulu called after her, her voice sharp with alarm.

But Yuna was already disappearing into the trees.

Lulu could handle herself, but Yuna was another matter entirely. Her abilities leaned heavily toward healing and support—noble and necessary, but hardly suited for direct confrontation. I didn’t wait for approval or a plan. The moment she darted ahead, I charged in after her, pushing through the thick undergrowth as the forest opened into a wide clearing.

Kimahri was there, locked in battle with an enormous fiend. He wasn’t winning.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat as the creature’s hulking form came into full view. I knew this monster.

This was the thing that tore up my world—the one that rose from the ground in the heart of downtown, leaving destruction in its wake. I remembered the buildings collapsing, cars thrown like toys, the people screaming. Families torn apart. That thing wasn’t just a fiend. It was a nightmare.

Yuna had already begun casting, her focus unwavering despite the monster’s overwhelming presence. A gentle glow surrounded Kimahri as her healing spell took effect, mending his injuries. But the spell drew attention. The creature’s grotesque, twisting tentacle reared high into the air and then swung down, aiming directly for her.

I didn’t think. I just moved.

Throwing myself in front of Yuna, I raised my hands, willing something—anything—to shield her. The thought roared in my mind like an order.

Protect.

A shimmering barrier of interlocking hexagons materialized in front of me, pulsing with a faint blue and gold light. The tentacle slammed into it, and the force of the impact sent a shockwave rippling through the ground. The fiend recoiled, flailing as if dazed, while the barrier shimmered faintly before vanishing. My hands trembled, but there wasn’t time to think about what just happened.

Rage bubbled up from deep inside me. This thing wasn’t going to hurt anyone else.

Heat surged down my left arm as I called fire to me. The spell burned so hot that the edges of my sleeves began to smoke, but I didn’t care. With a sweeping motion, I hurled the flame forward. The orb of fire collided with the fiend, erupting into a towering pillar of flames that clung to its grotesque body. The creature screeched, its tentacles thrashing wildly as it writhed in agony.

Ignoring the strain building in my arm, I turned to ice on my right. A sharp, bone-deep chill replaced the heat, spreading from my right hand as the ground beneath me frosted over. With a sharp exhale, I released the spell, a sphere of glacial energy shooting toward the fiend. The moment it struck, the magic exploded outward in jagged spikes of ice, piercing through the creature’s plant-like hide.

The fiend let out an ear-splitting bellow, its body writhing as frost covered its wounds. But it didn’t fall.

I dropped to one knee, breathing hard, my vision blurring slightly from the effort. The ice encasing the fiend shattered as it twisted and tore free, but I could see its movements slowing. It was injured—badly—but not beaten.

Yuna’s hand rested on my shoulder, startling me. I turned to see her concerned expression, her wide eyes scanning me as if I might fall apart. Shaking off the exhaustion, I forced myself to my feet.

Kimahri, now looking much better thanks to Yuna’s spell, stepped forward, lance in hand. The two of them joined the fray just as the fiend let out a low, guttural growl. It reared up, slamming its massive body into the ground with a force that sent shockwaves rippling outward. The impact knocked all of us to the ground as a thick cloud of dust and debris obscured the battlefield.

When the dust cleared, the fiend was gone, leaving behind only a gaping crater.

Wakka and Lulu arrived moments later, both of them rushing to Yuna’s side to make sure she wasn’t hurt. Meanwhile, Kimahri stalked toward me, his imposing frame casting a long shadow. He was even larger than I’d realized—towering, broad, and radiating an aura of quiet strength.

When he spoke, his deep, gravelly voice caught me off guard. “Kimahri thanks you.”

I blinked, momentarily stunned.

“You know what? I shouldn’t even be surprised that you speak,” I muttered, mostly to myself. Kimahri didn’t react, his gaze steady.

“No need to thank me,” I continued, trying not to sound nervous under his piercing stare. “You looked like you needed help.”

“Sinspawn was too strong,” he said simply. “It got close to Yuna. I could not kill it. You protected Yuna. You made it go away.”

His words carried weight, a quiet sincerity that left no room for argument.

The others turned their attention toward us, Lulu and Wakka both visibly surprised by Kimahri’s gratitude.

“I… You’re welcome?” I said awkwardly, not sure how else to respond.

“That was amazing,” Yuna said, stepping forward with a sparkle in her eyes. She looked younger than ever at that moment, her awe unfiltered. “You took on such a large fiend almost all on your own.”

Her expression shifted then, curiosity giving way to concern. “But… I’ll admit, I was worried. You looked really… angry. Are you okay?”

I bit my lip, hesitating as the memory resurfaced—the raw, helpless fury that had driven me to fight so recklessly.

“That fiend…” I said slowly, my voice low. “Or something like it. It was the same monster that attacked us in my world.”

A heavy silence fell over the group. Yuna’s grip tightened on her staff, her knuckles turning white. “There was a sinspawn in your world?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lulu’s sharp mind was already racing. “Sinspawn are not like other fiends,” she said thoughtfully, crossing her arms along her chest. “They come directly from Sin. If something like that was in your world…” She trailed off, the implication hanging in the air.

Sin might be able to reach my world.

And if that was true… Sin might be my way back. But what that means for my people’s safety.. I don’t know.

Yuna stood silently, clutching her staff like a lifeline. Her knuckles were pale, her gaze unfocused. I followed Lulu’s glance toward the young summoner-in-training.

“I have to defeat Sin,” Yuna said softly, her voice steady but laced with tension. “Other worlds are suffering too.”

Her words hit harder than I expected. I swallowed thickly and managed a weak smile. “If putting Sin into the ground means the sinspawns die along with it, then I’m all for it. I hope you succeed, Yuna.”

Yuna turned to me, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made me freeze. “Then let’s fight together,” she said firmly.

“Huh?” I blinked at her, caught off guard.

“Derek, I want you to join us on our pilgrimage, I want you to be my guardian.” Her tone was unwavering, her expression resolute. Those determined eyes bore into me, and I could feel the weight of her words.

“W-wha—wait a second!” Wakka stammered, his voice rising in disbelief. “Yuna, he just got here! You’re dropping this on him now?” His hands flew to his head as if trying to physically contain his shock.

Lulu crossed her arms, her gaze sharp but reserved. She didn’t interrupt, though the disapproval was clear in her posture.

“Kimahri agrees,” the beast said simply, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.

I glanced at each of them, my mind racing. Becoming Yuna’s guardian wasn’t something to take lightly, I knew that. Guardians pledged their lives to protect their summoner, traveling across all of Spira to collect aeons and ultimately fight Sin. It was a monumental responsibility.

But the decision was obvious.

Traveling with Yuna meant seeing more of Spira—more opportunities to uncover clues about the rift and the strange circumstances that brought me here. Fighting Sin also meant taking out the sinspawns that had haunted me since my arrival. And if Sin truly held the key to getting back home, then this pilgrimage was the best lead I had.

Three birds with one stone.

“Okay,” I said, my voice firm.

Wakka threw his hands up in exasperation, staring at me like I’d just agreed to jump off a cliff. “Are you serious?!” he exclaimed, his hair a chaotic mess from running his fingers through it.

Even Lulu raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised at how quickly I’d agreed.

Lulu’s voice was sharp when she finally spoke. “I know you see this as an opportunity to find your way home,” she said, her tone bordering on a scold, “but as a guardian, you swear an oath to protect your summoner until their pilgrimage is complete. This isn’t a decision to take lightly.”

“I know,” I said, raising my hands in surrender. “I won’t put Yuna or her pilgrimage at risk. Promise.”

“You promise, promise?” Wakka pressed, pointing a finger at me like he was interrogating a criminal.

I couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic intensity. “Cross my heart,” I said with a grin.

Kimahri broke the moment with a simple statement. “Need to head back. People of Besaid worried.”

—

The walk back through the forest was uneventful, a welcome change from earlier. Having Kimahri with us made the journey smoother—he knew the terrain well, guiding us along paths I never would’ve noticed. The dense trees eventually thinned, revealing the familiar sight of Besaid Village in the distance.

As we approached, Yuna slowed her steps, matching my pace. She glanced up at me, curiosity glimmering in her eyes. “What does ‘cross my heart’ mean?” she asked.

“Oh,” I said, caught off guard by the question. “It’s just another way of promising. Like, it’s a way to say you really mean it, you know? It’s kind of important.”

Yuna hummed thoughtfully, clearly turning the phrase over in her mind. “Where did it come from?”

I frowned, realizing I didn’t have a proper answer. “Uh… I’m not really sure. I just know the full saying is ‘I cross my heart and hope to die.’”

Her expression shifted slightly, a hint of something I couldn’t quite place crossing her face. She fell silent, mulling over the words.

“I see,” she said at last, her voice quiet as we continued toward the village.

Chapter Text

The singing grew louder here, weaving through the temple like a soothing melody.

Arms crossed, I leaned against the left pillar of the inner sanctum, letting my weight rest into the cool stone. My gaze drifted upwards, toward the staircase where Yuna had disappeared, what felt like forever ago. The barrier at the top shimmered faintly—translucent wings of light that sealed her in. They looked fragile but emanated an undeniable strength.

It has been a full day now.

Lulu sat at the base of the stairs, exhaustion pulling at her features. Her crimson eyes, though sharp, were fixed on the ground in thought. Kimahri stood just behind her, as motionless as a statue. Only his tail betrayed him, twitching faintly as he stood guard.

I glanced down at myself, at the scuffed armor protecting my legs and the belt strapped securely around my waist. My eyes trailed to the weapon slung against my lower back—a folded blade of my own design, a hybrid between a sword and a firearm. The hilt, which faced outward for an easy draw, was well-worn from countless battles.

The memory of Wakka’s face the first time I’d unveiled the weapon popped into my mind. His outrage had been comical. “That thing’s offensive to Yevon!” he’d yelled, practically sputtering in disbelief.

Yuna, of course, had been quick to come to my defense, pointing out that I wasn’t bound to Yevon’s teachings. Her calm rebuttal had silenced him. For a moment, she’d reminded me so much of my sister, and I’d caught myself smiling.

I shifted against the pillar, my fingers brushing the hilt of my weapon.

Back then, I hadn’t known how vital it would become. Under Lulu’s guidance, it didn’t take long to realize I couldn’t depend solely on magic. I didn’t have the years of rigorous training that she did. My stamina was limited, and long battles drained me quickly. I needed an alternative—a way to fight when spells weren’t enough.

While Lulu helped honed my black magic, I trained with Kimahri in combat. Swordplay was… awkward at first. It felt unnatural, the weight and balance all wrong. But Kimahri was patient, and eventually, I got the hang of it. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

Then, in my overconfidence, I decided to experiment. I wanted to blend magic and physical strikes, combining them into something uniquely mine. The result? Let’s just say it wasn’t pretty.

I glanced at Kimahri out of the corner of my eye. He hadn’t moved a muscle, still as vigilant as ever. I wondered if he remembered that particular incident.

Sliding my gaze back down, I let my mind wander to that day.

Electricity crackled along my fingers, snapping and sparking as I channeled it into the blade. The metallic surface gleamed under the charge, arcs of lightning crawling along its length like living veins. For a moment, I thought I had it—thought I’d finally infused the weapon with magic the way I visualized.

Instead, the energy surged straight through the tip of the blade, ripping through the air with a sharp crack and hitting Kimahri square in the chest.

The roar he let out that day was deafening.

It didn’t help that it was raining. Water amplified everything—the sound, the sparks, the utter humiliation as Kimahri stared me down through the haze, his fur singed and damp. He didn’t say a word. Just turned and stalked off into the downpour.

He never took me hunting again.

I sighed, shaking my head at the memory. 

There were more attempts after that, each ending in frustration. Alone in the woods, I swung the blade again and again, trying to get the magic to stay. Each time it failed, the energy escaped in bursts instead of bonding with the metal. Eventually, I sank onto a jagged stone, rain-soaked and defeated, staring at the useless hunk of steel in my hands.

And then it hit me.

The magic wasn’t meant to stay. It wasn’t clinging to the blade because it didn’t need to. Each burst of energy launched with incredible speed, faster than I could ever swing. Faster than any arrow I’d seen fired.

“Like a bullet,” I murmured to myself, staring at the blade with new eyes.

The idea started to form, messy and half-baked but impossible to ignore. If I could create a chamber to focus the burst of magic… to give it a clear path to fire…

I found myself smiling despite the rain, the weight of failure lifting just a little. The prospect was daunting, sure, but the challenge was exhilarating in its own way.

“Never tried welding before,” I muttered, running my thumb along the edge of the blade. “First time for everything, I guess.”

It took nearly four months to finish, but I’d finally done it. Using my own magic to weld and shape scraps of metal scavenged from broken spires in the forest, I forged them into something entirely new. The villagers had given me a sword when I first agreed to become a guardian—an act of kindness and trust—but now it was something else entirely. A hybrid. A creation of my own design.

I pulled the folded blade from its sheath, the metal gleaming faintly under the flickering light of the temple. With a practiced flick of my wrist, it unfolded, snapping into place like a massive, deadly switchblade. I admired the craftsmanship, noting the subtle adjustments I’d made over time to improve its efficiency: better balance, reinforced joints, and a smoother transition between forms. It wasn’t perfect—far from it—but it was mine.

Flipping the blade, I rested the tip against the ground, the weight of it grounding me. I traced the faint etchings along its edge with my eyes, allowing myself a rare moment of pride. That moment shattered when the walls around us began to tremble, sending a faint vibration through the floor and up my legs.

Startled, I snapped the blade back into its gun form with a sharp click and slid it into its sheath. Turning toward the staircase, my first instinct was to check for Yuna. But the sound wasn’t coming from her direction.

Lulu was already on her feet, her crimson eyes narrowing as she turned toward the entrance. Kimahri, ever watchful, moved just slightly, positioning himself between the door to where Yuna was and the source of the noise. The grinding sound of stone against stone echoed through the chamber as the floating platform descended to our level.

I glanced at Lulu, catching her eye. She returned the look, her expression a mix of irritation and resignation, and sighed softly. “It’s Wakka,” she muttered, as if that explained everything.

Still, something felt off. Folding my arms, I frowned and voiced what we were all thinking. “Why would he come down here? He knows Yuna’s already in the trial. What’s the point?”

“It’s Wakka,” Lulu repeated, this time with an edge of disbelief. Then, after a pause, “But you’re right. This isn’t like him.”

The sound of footsteps reached us—two, not just one. Instinctively, my arms dropped to my sides. My right hand hovered over the hilt of my weapon while my left fingers brushed together, ready to snap a spell into existence at the first sign of trouble.

The first figure to step into view caught me off guard. Bright streaks of gold hair framed a tanned face, his clear blue eyes scanning the room with an almost defiant curiosity. Young—not quite a boy, but not yet a man. Wakka trailed behind him, his expression guilty but his presence immediately putting me at ease.

Releasing a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, I relaxed, crossing my arms over my chest again as Lulu stepped forward. She didn’t look remotely relieved.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her tone sharp enough to cut. “Did you not trust us to handle it?”

Wakka stammered, his usual confidence crumbling under her glare. “No, it’s uh… It’s not like that, I just…”

I held back a laugh, watching the two guardians bicker like an old married couple. My attention wavered as I caught Wakka lean in to whisper something to the blonde kid, who nodded silently.

But it was the boy who spoke next, cutting through the tension with a question that immediately shifted the mood.

“Is the summoner alright?” His voice was calm, steady, and somehow older than he looked.

Lulu blinked, momentarily taken aback by his sincerity. Her eyes narrowed again, but this time in suspicion… and something more— recognition?.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice tinged with something quiet.

The room stilled, as if waiting for his answer.

The walls trembled again, this time with a deeper resonance. All eyes turned to the sealed doorway Yuna had vanished through. The heavy stone began to groan and shake, then slowly slid open. A soft glow spilled out as Yuna stepped through, unsteady on her feet. She looked fragile, the weight of the trial apparent in her trembling frame.

Her first step down the staircase faltered. Instinct took over as I started forward, but Kimahri was faster, closing the distance in a single bound. His strong arms caught her before she could fall, lifting her with the same ease as if she were a child.

A unified sigh of relief swept through the group, and I found myself smiling despite the tension lingering in the air. That look on her face—pride, exhaustion, and quiet triumph—it was unmistakable.

“I’ve done it,” Yuna announced, her voice bright despite her weariness. “I have become a summoner!”

—

The urgency in her step as we left the inner temple wasn’t lost on me. The villagers were waiting for her return, eager to see the new summoner, the heir to Braska’s legacy. Yuna, ever the devoted daughter of Spira, wouldn’t keep them waiting.

My attention drifted to the blonde kid standing awkwardly to the side, his wide-eyed expression betraying a mix of awe and bewilderment. He didn’t move, didn’t follow. Just stood there, staring at Yuna as if she’d just parted the sea.

I caught his eye when he finally noticed the rest of us leaving. He flinched, startled to find me already watching him.

“Uh, hi?” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head, his awkwardness practically radiating off him.

I raised a brow, letting my gaze drift over his clothing. It was different—strange even—but not in the way mine had been when I first arrived. It was more like he belonged somewhere else entirely. I shook my head in mock disbelief, playing the part, and jerked my thumb toward the exit. “C’mon, Blondie. Let’s go.”

He jumped at the instruction, scrambling to follow. Trailing behind the rest of us, I watched him take in the towering walls of the inner temple. His eyes darted from the intricate carvings to the flickering pyreflies that danced in the air. That dazed, out-of-place look was all too familiar.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Did I look that green a year ago?

The difference was, I’d worked to blend in. Call it survival instinct or sheer stubbornness, but I made an effort to fit into Spira, to not stand out. This kid didn’t bother. He made no effort to shrink into the background, no attempt to hide his confusion or discomfort. He just stood there, completely unashamed, like he belonged wherever he decided to be.

It was both reckless and oddly admirable.

The main temple buzzed with anticipation as we exited the cloister of trials. Villagers crowded the hall, eager to greet Yuna and celebrate her success. Their faces lit up with pride as she greeted them with a prayer, her calm presence radiating a quiet strength that immediately put everyone at ease.

Lulu, Wakka, and Kimahri flanked her, standing protectively close. I stayed back, watching the scene unfold. The blonde kid, predictably, stuck out like a sore thumb.

He didn’t try to blend in—not even a little. Just stood there, a stranger in every sense of the word, as the villagers celebrated around him. No one paid him any attention, their focus entirely on Yuna.

Smirking, I placed a hand on his back, nudging him gently toward the exit. 

He shot me a startled look but didn’t argue, trailing silently after the group as we stepped into the open air.

Outside, the village had gathered in the open clearing, their excitement palpable. The energy shifted as Wakka called the blonde over, motioning for him to join the group. I stayed behind, moving to stand with Lulu and Kimahri.

This was it. My first time witnessing a summoning.

The air grew still as Yuna stepped forward, raising her staff with practiced grace. Her expression was one of pure focus, her body moving as if guided by something unseen. The wind shifted, rustling the palm trees that surrounded the village, their fronds swaying in rhythm with the magic gathering around her.

Yuna thrust her left hand forward, her right arm sweeping back as she raised her staff high into the air. A shimmering summoning circle formed beneath her feet, glowing with radiant energy that seemed to pulse with life. Magic shot skyward, parting the clouds in an instant.

A brilliant light broke through the heavens as the aeon descended, its massive, bird-like form landing with a thunderous impact. Its wings spread wide, its piercing gaze scanning the crowd.

I stared, unable to look away. So this was an aeon—a fragment of the divine, a weapon of hope.

And Yuna had called it.

The aeon stood tall and regal, its massive wings partially folded as Yuna approached. The crowd held its collective breath, every eye on the summoner as she extended a hand toward the creature. The tension in the air was palpable, but it evaporated the moment the aeon lowered its head in a gesture of trust.

A collective gasp rippled through the villagers, followed by cheers and applause as they realized the bond between Yuna and her summoned companion was secure. The air buzzed with celebration, the weight of awe giving way to pure joy.

Wakka and Lulu approached Yuna, their faces alight with pride. Wakka’s booming laughter echoed above the crowd as he clapped her on the back, while Lulu offered her quieter congratulations with a rare, genuine smile. They stood with her as friends and guardians, giving her a moment of recognition for the achievement she’d worked so hard to earn.

I hung back, watching the scene unfold. My eyes wandered to Blondie, standing off to the side, looking utterly lost. He stared at the aeon, his mouth slightly open as if trying to form words but failing.

“What’s your name?” I asked, breaking the silence.

The kid flinched, clearly startled, and turned to look at me like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, I thought maybe he hadn’t heard me, or maybe he’d forgotten how to speak altogether. Then, finally, he said, “Tidus.”

I nodded, filing the name away. “Derek,” I offered, keeping it short. He didn’t say anything else, but his shoulders relaxed slightly, like he was glad someone had acknowledged his existence.

—

The village threw a feast that night in Yuna’s honor, the flames of the central fire crackling brightly as they lit up the gathering. Music played, laughter echoed, and plates piled high with food were passed around. This was more than a celebration—it was the beginning of Yuna’s journey, a pilgrimage that would take her across all of Spira.

Sitting on a wooden bench near the fire, I stared into the flickering flames, letting their dance lull me into thought. My mind wandered to the day I’d agreed to be Yuna’s guardian. At the time, it had been simple: find Sin, find a way home. That was all.

But now…

A year was a long time to spend in one place. I’d grown used to life here—the rhythms of the village, the quiet strength of its people. I’d built friendships, bonds I hadn’t expected to make. Yuna, the guardians, the villagers of Besaid—they weren’t just faces in the background anymore. They were a part of me now.

The meat skewer in my hand cracked under the pressure of my grip. If Sin was the way home, what would I do when we finally reached it? Would I abandon Yuna, leave her to face Sin alone? Could I? And if Yuna succeeded in defeating Sin…would my way home disappear along with it?

The thoughts churned in my head, tightening my chest with an unease I couldn’t shake. I bit down hard on the skewer, frustration mingling with the savory taste of the roasted meat.

Yuna would understand, wouldn’t she? She knew why I’d agreed to be her guardian in the first place. But the others…

The laughter of children broke through my spiraling thoughts, pulling me back to the present. I glanced toward the fire, where Yuna sat surrounded by the village elders, their faces glowing with admiration. Wakka stood nearby, his booming voice carrying over the crowd as he regaled his blitzball team with motivational speeches.

I shook my head. Blitzball—a game I’d never even attempted to understand.

Lulu had disappeared into her tent a while ago, likely finding the celebrations unnecessary now that Yuna’s trial was complete. Kimahri, ever vigilant, kept to the shadows, watching over the festivities from a distance.

And then there was Tidus. The boy stood off to the side, fidgeting awkwardly as his eyes darted toward Yuna. He clearly wanted to approach her, but the glares of the villagers held him back. His discomfort was written all over his face, but still, he made no move to leave.

I sighed and stood, brushing stray embers from my clothing. I’d had enough of thinking for one night.

Back in my tent, I found a familiar figure waiting for me. Karoda. The tall, muscular villager was sprawled lazily on my bedding, his dark hair already a mess. A lazy grin stretched across his face as he met my gaze.

“Thought I’d give you a farewell present,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

Heat pooled in my stomach as my face split into a grin of its own. Without hesitation, I shed my clothing and slid under the covers beside him.

Karoda rolled over, trapping me beneath his weight as his lips found my neck. His breath was warm, his kisses slow and deliberate. I let my hands drift up to his broad shoulders, pulling him closer as I let myself relax in the presence of his familiar warmth.

“Give me something to remember you by,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

His only answer was a soft tongue sliding down my chest.

—

The first light of dawn seeped through the seams of my tent, bathing the interior in a faint, golden glow. I moved quietly as I strapped on my gear, the soft clinking of buckles muffled by the sound of Karoda’s steady breathing. He lay on his stomach, his broad back rising and falling with each deep, even breath.

Pausing for a moment, I let my eyes linger on him. My hand found its way to his hair, the dark strands soft under my fingers as I combed through them one last time. A silent thanks and goodbye. He didn’t stir, and that was fine. It was far better this way.

With a satisfied sigh, I turned and slipped out of the tent.

The morning air was cool against my skin, carrying the salty tang of the ocean and the faint murmur of the waking village. Only a few people moved about—mostly elders gathering near the temple to bid farewell to their summoner. The rest were no doubt down by the docks, preparing the boat for our departure.

I adjusted my belt holster, securing my weapon in place and rolled up my sleeves while making my way toward the others. Wakka stood at the temple steps with Lulu, his towering frame impossible to miss. Tidus lingered nearby, examining a sword with a look of unguarded curiosity.

“You say all your goodbyes?” Wakka asked as I approached, a grin spreading across his face.

I gave him a lazy smile while buttoning up my vest. “Yup.”

“All of them?” he prodded, nudging me playfully with his elbow.

Shaking my head, I let out a soft laugh, unwilling to rise to the bait. I could feel the heat of Lulu’s gaze cutting through Wakka’s antics. She sighed lightly to put an end to his teasing.

Tidus, oblivious to the exchange, turned the sword over in his hands, tracing its edge with his fingers. I recognized it immediately.

Chappu’s weapon.

My eyes snapped to Lulu, who held my gaze for a long moment before letting hers drop. Then to Wakka, whose broad shoulders stiffened under my scrutiny as he deliberately looked away.

The air between the three of us grew heavy. I didn’t need to say anything—the unspoken history was there, palpable and complicated. For Wakka to give Tidus his younger brother’s sword, there was an unasked question hanging in the silence. One no one wanted to voice.

Finally, Wakka broke it, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Where’s Yuna?”

Tidus looked up from the sword, frowning. “We’re taking the same boat as Yuna, right? Why do we gotta wait here?”

Wakka’s expression softened. “Yuna came to this village ten years ago, when the last Calm started,” he explained, his voice carrying a quiet reverence. “Since then, she’s been like a little sister to me and Lulu. But she had the talent… She became an apprentice. And now today…” His words hung in the air for a moment before he finished, “Today, she leaves as a summoner.”

“This is our journey,” Lulu added, her tone steady and unwavering. “We should leave together.”

At that moment, Yuna appeared at the temple steps, struggling under the weight of an oversized piece of luggage. The sight was so absurd I couldn’t stop a chuckle from escaping my lips.

“You really don’t need all that luggage,” Lulu called out, crossing her arms with a slight arch of her brow.

Yuna’s face flushed, and she gave a sheepish smile. “They’re not really my things,” she admitted. “They’re gifts for the temples we’re to visit.”

“This isn’t a vacation, Yuna,” Wakka said, uncharacteristically stern. 

I spared a glance at the two veteran guardians, silently questioning their approach. Yuna was new to this, barely standing at the threshold of her journey, and already they seemed to press her with their expectations.

“I guess… I guess you’re right,” Yuna said softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she placed the luggage aside.

Once unburdened, she joined us, standing tall despite the weight of what lay ahead. As the others turned to leave, Yuna lingered, turning back toward the temple to bow her head in prayer.

Her quiet devotion stirred something in me. Following her gaze, I let my eyes drift to the temple’s towering structure. At that moment, I offered a silent farewell of my own—a goodbye and a thank you for the refuge this place had provided.

The wind picked up, carrying the scent of sea spray as we began our walk to the docks. This was it. The start of something much larger than any of us.

—

It was entertaining, watching the kid bumble his way through learning how to fight the creatures we encountered. Tidus had a certain energy about him—confident to a fault, swaggering with bravado that was almost endearing if you could get past how over-the-top it was. It didn’t take much to see he was compensating for something, though what exactly, I wasn’t sure.

Still, Yuna seemed to enjoy his company, and that alone made it hard to stay annoyed. Her soft laughs when he said or did something ridiculous were enough to keep the group’s mood light.

The real highlight, though, was when Kimahri decided to make his presence known. The Ronso was a master of stealth when he wanted to be, and he used that to his full advantage now, materializing out of nowhere and landing heavily in front of the blonde from somewhere above, a hulking shadow.

The kid jumped about a foot in the air, stumbling with wide eyes as Kimahri loomed over him, silent and unmoving.

I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face.

Kimahri didn’t waste words, and he certainly didn’t pull his punches. Without preamble, he lifted his spear and pointed it at Tidus, a silent challenge.

“What—? You wanna fight?!” Tidus sputtered, clearly unsure of what he’d gotten himself into.

The Ronso gave no verbal confirmation, only a slight shift in his stance that said everything. This wasn’t just a fight—it was a test.

Yuna took a step forward, her expression worried. “Kimahri, wait! Don’t—”

Gently, I reached out and caught her by the arm, pulling her back. She turned to me with a pout, her eyes silently pleading.

“Give it a minute,” I said, my tone light, though I couldn’t quite suppress the amusement in my voice.

“Derek, that’s mean,” she scolded softly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

I just shrugged, the smirk still tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Call it a learning opportunity.”

Yuna didn’t look convinced, but she relented, stepping back and crossing her arms as she watched the scene unfold.

Tidus, to his credit, wasn’t backing down. He raised his weapon and squared his stance, the tension rolling off him in waves as Kimahri began to circle him like a predator sizing up prey.

This was going to be good.

—

The fight ended as abruptly as it began. Kimahri had seen enough after a few swings. With practiced ease, he mounted his lance onto his back, shook his head disapprovingly, and turned without a word. The Ronso’s massive frame seemed even larger as he stalked away, leaving Tidus standing there, bewildered and clearly frustrated.

“What was that about?!” Tidus yelled after him, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

I couldn’t help but chuckle under my breath, earning a disapproving look from Yuna. “He’ll live,” I muttered, shrugging.

By the time we reached the beach, the bustling energy of the villagers greeted us in full force. Children ran along the sand, their laughter and cheers ringing out as they crowded near the boat, waving us over like we were heroes off to save the world. And, in a way, I supposed we were.

Tidus, of course, wandered aimlessly among the crowd, trying to talk to anyone who would listen. Most didn’t. They were far too focused on Yuna, their soon-to-be legendary summoner.

As we boarded the ship, a wave of emotion rippled through the crowd. The laughter of the children gave way to sniffles, then soft cries, and finally, outright sobbing. Tiny hands waved frantically as they called out their goodbyes to Yuna.

She turned, her serene smile in place, and pressed her palms together in prayer. “Goodbye,” she whispered softly, almost too quiet to hear.

Goodbye.

I frowned, the word settling uneasily in my chest. Yuna had been saying it a lot lately. Too much.

It used to mean “see you later” when it came from her lips—hopeful, optimistic, brimming with the promise of another meeting. Now, it carried a weight that wasn’t there before. It felt final.

I shook off the thought, trying to focus as we settled onto the ship, it was probably nothing.

Lulu and Wakka had drilled into me what to expect on this pilgrimage. The dangers weren’t just physical but emotional too. Yuna might just be preparing herself for the worst.

Still, something about the way she said it gnawed at me.

Deciding I needed a distraction, I wandered off to explore the ship.

—

Hours passed as the boat cut through the water, the distant outline of an island growing slowly on the horizon. The salty breeze tugged at my hair as I stood on the highest deck, staring out at the endless expanse of ocean.

From my vantage point, I could see Tidus fooling around below, his boundless energy somehow not diminished by the heat or the constant motion of the ship. Meanwhile, the guardians were stationed strategically around the boat, each keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings. It was a good system, one that gave Yuna the space to talk with Wakka’s blitzball team as they peppered her with questions.

The ocean’s rhythm lulled me into a rare moment of calm. Closing my eyes, I let the sound of the waves and the occasional cries of gulls fill my senses. A flock of birds flew past, their shadows skimming the water below. When I opened my eyes again, I spotted Tidus. He’d inched closer to Yuna and seemed to be having a relatively serious conversation.

Curious, I made my way down to the main deck, keeping my movements casual. I leaned against the railing, pretending to admire the sea, just close enough to eavesdrop.

They were talking about fathers.

The topic caught me off guard. Yuna mentioned knowing Tidus’ father, which was surprising, to say the least. That meant there was a chance the kid was actually from this world.

A bitter taste crept into my mouth at the thought. For a moment, I allowed myself to dwell on the selfish, aching wish that someone—anyone—here could understand what it was like to be ripped away from your family, your home.

Someone who was, quite literally, on the same boat as me.

But those thoughts wouldn’t help. I shoved them aside and focused on their conversation again.

Tidus was defensive, brushing off the idea that his father had been here, but it was clear the topic cut deep. His frustration was almost palpable, and for the first time, I saw cracks in his carefully constructed bravado.

Ah. So that’s what he’s compensating for.

Yuna, as always, was gentle but firm. She countered his denials with a simple, undeniable truth:

“You’re here… are you not?”

That statement hung in the air, and I found myself intrigued. Whatever Yuna knew about his father, it clearly meant something to her.

Before I could step forward and join the conversation, the ship lurched violently. The deck tilted beneath my feet, sending me stumbling as the boat rocked hard off its course.

My hand shot out to grab the railing, the sound of startled cries filling the air. Something was coming.

Yuna loses her balance and nearly slides off entirely. Seeing that Tidus managed to get a hold of her, I turned to the ocean to see what was hitting us. The waves began to grow, whatever was under the water must’ve been huge to cause this kind of effect. 

Yuna let out a scream as Tidus loses his grip, thankfully she latches onto the ship’s ballista. 

The ship groaned as the massive waves battered its sides, tilting it precariously. Yuna screamed again, clutching the ballista with white-knuckled hands. I could see Tidus struggling to reach her, his footing unstable as water drenched the deck.

No time to waste.

Snapping my fingers, I whispered, “Stop.”

The magic surged through me and rippled outwards, bending time to my will. A talent Lulu hadn’t failed to make me realize.

The clearing was silent save for the rustling of leaves. I stood with my hand raised, the energy of the spell crackling at my fingertips. Across from me, Lulu watched, her sharp gaze unyielding.

“Focus,” she said, her tone firm. “Feel the flow, not just the force.” The black mage approached me and joined our hands, helping me channel the energy.

Frustration gnawed at me. Endurance with magic had always eluded me, slipping through my grasp like sand. But this time, I closed my eyes and let go of control, letting the rhythm of the world guide me.

Suddenly, everything stopped. The wind ceased. Leaves froze mid-fall. Even the faint hum of nature seemed muted, as if the entire world held its breath.

When I opened my eyes, the stillness was absolute. Everything in motion had frozen in place. All except him and the black mage.

Lulu’s sharp intake of breath broke the silence. “Derek,” she whispered, hesitant to even move, her calm demeanor shattered. “What… did you just do?”

I released the spell, and time surged forward, the leaves hitting the ground all at once. My knees buckled from the strain, but I managed to stay upright.

Lulu’s astonishment was plain on her face—a rarity. “Stopping time… That’s unheard of. Not even the most skilled in magics have done that.”

I met her gaze, heart pounding. “Guess there’s a first for everything.”

For once, Lulu had no rebuttal, only a look of quiet awe.

Everything slowed—waves froze mid-crest, the frantic shouts of the crew became distant echoes, and the sharp spray of seawater hung in the air like glittering shards.

With the world moving at a crawl, I darted across the deck, feeling weightless under the spell. I reached Yuna, wrapping my arm around her waist and lifting her effortlessly. Upon contact, time resumed for her. The summoner’s eyes went wide as they met mine, a mix of fear and gratitude.

By the time we reached the center of the ship, the magic released its grip, and time slammed back into motion. The roar of the ocean returned, the ship rocked violently once more, and the cries of the crew filled the air. Tidus’ head twisted violently, witnessing the sudden disappearance of the summoner right before his eyes. 

Kimahri appeared out of nowhere, his towering frame steady even amidst the chaos. I handed Yuna off to him without hesitation.

“Stay with her!” I said.

The Ronso nodded, his gaze sharp and unwavering as he pulled her close to shield her with his body.

Tidus was still floundering by the helm, and the rest of the crew scrambled to hold the ship together. The guardians tightened their circle around Yuna, instincts taking over as we prepared for the next strike.

Then, it surfaced.

A massive fin, glistening with seawater, tore through the waves and rose high into the sky. It was impossibly large, dwarfing everything around it. The shadow it cast plunged the ship into darkness for a moment, a chilling reminder of just how small we were.

“What the hell is that?!” I shouted, my grip tightening on my weapon.

One of the passengers screamed, the word cutting through the chaos like a blade.

“Sin!”

My heart sank. I had heard the stories, but nothing could prepare me for the reality of it. The fin began to move again, cutting through the water with terrifying speed. For a brief, fleeting moment, I thought it might leave us behind.

But fate wasn’t that kind.

Two crew members broke away, racing toward the ballistas mounted on either side of the ship.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Wakka bellowed. “Stick a harpoon in him, and we’ll all get dragged under!”

The crew hesitated, their faces torn with anguish.

“Our families are in Kilika!” one of them shouted. “If we don’t stop it, they’ll die!”

Their words hung heavy in the air, their desperation palpable.

I stepped forward, ready to pull them away, but Yuna stopped me with a gentle shake of her head. She looked at the crew, her expression softening with understanding. Then, she nodded.

“Do it,” she said quietly.

The harpoons fired with a deafening thunk, their steel cables unspooling as they embedded into Sin’s massive fin.

The ship jolted as the cables went taut, and then we were moving—dragged behind the monster like a toy caught in a current. The deck tilted dangerously as waves crashed over the sides, sending crew members tumbling overboard.

Tidus slid farther away, barely managing to grab hold of a mast before he went over. Kimahri and Wakka were thrown across the deck, both landing hard but managing to recover.

Lulu and I moved as one.

“Ready?” She asked, kneeling beside me.

I nodded, my hands already glowing with magic.

We both pressed our palms to the waterlogged deck, calling forth ice. The seawater at our feet crystallized instantly, forming a thick barrier around us. The ice bloomed outward like a flower, encasing Yuna and ourselves in a protective shell. It tethered us to the deck, holding us steady even as the ship continued to buck and sway.

The ice shattered into water as the ship finally stabilized, and we rose just in time to see what came next.

Scales the size of shields peeled off Sin’s fin, spinning through the air like jagged shrapnel. The first one slammed into the deck, splintering wood and throwing sparks.

I drew my weapon, the familiar weight a comfort as I braced myself.

“Here we go,” I muttered, locking eyes with Lulu.

The scales didn’t just fall—they burst open, releasing swarms of insect-like creatures. Their mandibles clicked menacingly as they swarmed toward us, a writhing mass of legs and wings.

“Tidus! Wakka! Kimahri! Handle the starboard side!” I barked, moving to cover the port.

The three of them jumped into action, fending off the creatures that had landed farther down the ship. Wakka’s blitzball whirled through the air, striking one creature square in the face before bouncing back to him. Tidus slashed wildly with his sword, his inexperience obvious but his determination unwavering. Kimahri was a blur of movement, his lance a deadly extension of his body.

Lulu and I took the opposite side, cutting down the creatures that swarmed toward Yuna. Ice and fire erupted in bursts, magic crackling in the air as we held the line.

The battle dragged on, each wave of creatures more relentless than the last. But even as we fought, I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that crept over me.

The fin was moving closer.

Sin wasn’t finished with us yet.

“Yuna!” Lulu’s sharp voice cut through the chaos, a steadying force amidst the storm.

“Right!” Yuna responded, her voice firm with resolve. She raised her staff, light streaking into the sky as Valefor descended in a burst of radiant energy.

The aeon hovered above the massive fin, wings beating with controlled fury as it awaited Yuna’s command. Without hesitation, Yuna directed Valefor to attack, and the aeon unleashed strike after strike. Explosions of force rocked the sea as Sin’s fin thrashed violently, its movements growing more erratic.

With a bone-rattling surge of strength, Sin wrenched free from the harpoons embedded in its massive body. The monstrous tail, far larger than the fin, emerged from the depths, rising high above the ship like an impossible wall of flesh and water.

Then it came crashing down.

The wave swallowed the ship whole, a deafening roar drowning out all sound as the world turned to chaos. When the spray cleared, I realized something was wrong.

Someone was missing.

Wakka charges towards the edge of the ship.

I barely registered his name before he dove overboard, his figure disappearing into the turbulent sea.

“Fuck—” I growled, sprinting to follow.

Yuna was already there, frantically scanning the water. Without thinking, I launched myself over the railing, plunging into the freezing depths.

As the cold shock of the ocean hit me, I waved my hand across my face, conjuring a bubble of air around my mouth. Wakka’s stories of holding their breath for an entire blitzball game always sounded like sheer madness. Now, I had no choice but to trust they weren’t exaggerating.

The water was disorienting, a shifting kaleidoscope of light and shadow. Straining my eyes, I spotted Tidus drifting, unconscious, as several stray Sin scales circled him like vultures.

Wakka was already moving, his blitzball cutting through the water with surprising precision. The impact knocked three of the scales away, but more were rapidly closing in.

I surged forward, cutting through the water with practiced ease. Wakka fell in behind me, his movements quick and steady. The cold bit into my skin, but I ignored it, reaching out toward Tidus, sending a ripple of magic through my arm and out the tip of my fingers. 

“White magic isn’t as difficult as you might think,” Yuna said with her usual gentle smile.

“For you, maybe,” I muttered, grimacing as I held a withering flower in my hands. Its once-vivid petals hung limp, curling at the edges.

Yuna tapped my shoulder, her touch light but insistent, urging me to look her way. With a heavy sigh of defeat, I turned to her, holding up the sad little flower. “This is what I’ve got so far,” I said, waving the flower slightly. A spark of misplaced energy ignited, and the petals caught fire.

Yuna stifled a laugh as I quickly snuffed out the flame, leaving the flower blackened and crumbling. “Fantastic,” I grumbled, tossing it into her hands.

Instead of scolding me, she hummed softly, her fingers glowing with a faint light. Before my eyes, the flower straightened, its color returning until it looked fresh, as if it had never been scorched.

“The first step to healing isn’t to focus,” Yuna said, handing the flower back. “It’s to wish for things to get better.”

“That sounds suspiciously like praying,” I quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Yuna smiled knowingly. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

Light flows through my fingers, a bright white shimmer coursing into the water as I will the spell to reach Tidus. It connects, and the boy jolts awake. Wakka claps him on the back, relief plain on his face.

But there’s no time to celebrate. The water darkens beneath us, and from the depths rises a massive creature, its gelatinous form rippling as it looms. A monstrous jellyfish-like fiend, flanked by a cluster of Sin’s scales, blocks our path. My eyes dart past it, scanning the murky waters.

Where the hell is Sin?

No time to wonder. Tidus reacts first, darting forward with a strike that barely grazes the creature’s slimy surface. His success is short-lived—two of the scales retaliate, slamming into him and forcing him back. Wakka quickly launches a blitzball, his shot cloaking the larger fiend in darkness.

Spinning my weapon in hand, I shift it into gun mode and fire two precise shots, electric infused bolts that fan out after reaching its target, wiping out the stray scales. The opening is enough for Wakka and Tidus to land direct hits on the jellyfish, but more scales begin to gather, their shadows multiplying in the water.

Wakka points to the scales, waving his arms deliberately, pulling Tidus into focus. The blitzball captain spares me a quick nod, before they shift their attention. 

Understanding his motives, water fiends are naturally susceptible to magic. I can deal more damage to the big one than they can.

I swim forward, bringing my hand to my chest. A crackle runs through my fingertips, a current building as I summon electricity. Wakka and Tidus weave between the creature’s flailing tentacles, dismantling the gathering scales one by one. The main fiend begins to spin, its lower body churning violently in the water.

Not waiting to see what it’s building up to, I swing my arm wide, releasing a trio of lightning bolts that crackle through the water. They shoot rapidly forward before halting, each positioned around the fiend, before converging on the creature in a brilliant burst of electricity, the force sending waves rippling around us. The monster twitches violently, its edges burning and curling before disintegrating into a cloud of pyreflies. The faint glow of the lights fades as the fiend sinks into the abyss.

I don’t linger. With a powerful kick, I swim for the surface, barely glancing back to confirm the others are following. The cold ocean air hits my face as I breach, the ship’s remaining crew lowering a ladder for us.

Climbing aboard, I weave magic between my fingers, kinetically drawing the water dripping from my soaked clothes. Accumulating the drops into a sphere of water before tossing it overboard.

My stomach drops when my gaze shifts to the horizon. Sin’s massive fin carves through the sea at impossible speed, hurtling toward a distant island. My chest tightens as Sin rises, and I watch helplessly as destruction rains down. The Kilika dock is obliterated in moments, debris spiraling upward into a vortex that forms a twisted halo around Sin.

Tidus collapses onto the deck, his strength clearly spent. Yuna rushes to his side, placing his head gently on her lap as she heals him. But her gaze never leaves the horizon, her eyes locked on the smoldering ruins of Kilika port.

“I will defeat Sin… I must defeat Sin,” she says, her voice unwavering, her determination absolute.

It’s admirable, but as I stand there staring at the devastation, I can’t help the knot of doubt tightening in my chest.

How the hell are we supposed to beat that?

Chapter Text

The scene before us was almost unbearable—Kilika port was a broken husk of what it once had been. Docks splintered and dangling into the sea, homes reduced to piles of rubble, and debris scattered in every direction as far as the eye could see. The air was heavy with the stench of salt, wet wood, and the undeniable presence of death.

Everywhere, villagers moved in a grim procession, carrying bodies to be placed in hastily made caskets. The cries of grieving parents, children, and neighbors pierced the air, a cacophony of pain that was impossible to ignore. I swallowed hard, forcing the bile rising in my throat back down.

On the deck of the ship, the crew worked mechanically, their faces pale as they anchored us at the battered remains of the port. Their hands moved from years of habit, but their eyes betrayed their shock, darting toward the wreckage and devastation with every spare moment.

When the ramp was lowered, Yuna didn’t hesitate. She descended quickly, her determined stride carrying her toward the small cluster of villagers who had gathered near the edge of the port. Their faces were a mixture of despair and faint hope, a flicker of something to cling to amid the chaos.

“Greetings! I am the summoner Yuna,” she announced, her voice steady, unwavering. It rang clear over the groans of the wounded and the sobs of the grieving. “I have come from the temple in Besaid.”

A woman, older and weathered by life in a port village, stumbled forward. Her expression shifted as her eyes met Yuna’s, relief momentarily softening the deep lines of anguish etched into her face.

“Oh, m’lady summoner,” the woman breathed, her voice quivering with emotion.

Yuna stepped forward, her tone firm yet gentle as she spoke. “If there is no other summoner here, please allow me to perform the sending.” The resolve in her words were clear, leaving no room for argument.

“That’s a lot of duties for one person,” I murmured, my voice barely cutting through the gentle crackle of the bonfire and the quiet conversations of the villagers around us.

Lulu sat beside me, her expression soft but tinged with sorrow. “Yes,” she said after a pause. “But it can’t be helped. Summoners are the only ones with the gift of communing with spirits. What do you think the fayth are?”

I frowned, resting my chin on my arms as I hugged my knees to my chest. “Does it always work?”

She stared into the fire, the flickering light casting long shadows across her face. “If a will is strong enough,” she said softly, “it’s possible for a spirit to reject the sending. But I don’t believe I’ve ever witnessed that happen.”

I let her words sink in, the weight of what they meant settling over me. The thought of a soul clinging so tightly to life—or to whatever bound them—was unsettling, to say the least.

A few moments passed before I spoke again, curiosity getting the better of me. “I kind of want to see it… the sending, I mean.”

Lulu turned her head slowly to look at me, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she replied, her tone flat but warning. “Let’s hope you’re not that lucky.”

Echoes of a past memory thudded against the edges of my mind, sharp and relentless like the pounding of a migraine. I clenched my jaw and turned away from the conversation, unwilling to let it take root.

“Thanks be to ye,” one of the male villagers said, his voice trembling with gratitude. The woman beside him added, “Our loved ones… we feared they would become fiends!”

Yuna held her composure, her voice steady and calm. “Please, take me to them.”

The villagers nodded and began leading the way, with Lulu, Kimahri, and me following close behind. From the back, Wakka called out, “We’ll go see what we can do to help in town!”

I glanced back to see Tidus trailing behind, his movements hesitant, unsure. After what we’d witnessed, I couldn’t blame him. Watching Sin obliterate the port wasn’t something you just shook off. Most people go their entire lives without seeing that kind of destruction.

As the sun dipped closer to the horizon, we arrived at a quiet area by the docks. Despite the devastation, this stretch of dock remained intact, its end submerged just below the waterline. At the bottom of the steps, caskets floated serenely, suspended in the shallow waters, each one decorated carefully by the villagers.

Lulu leaned against a wooden railing further back, her gaze distant as Yuna and Kimahri approached one of the village elders standing solemnly at the water’s edge. I paused beside Lulu, neither of us speaking. The soft lapping of the water and the occasional quiet sob from gathered villagers filled the heavy silence. My eyes drifted over the caskets, the water so clear I could see reflections of the fading light on their surfaces.

Movement caught my eye. Villagers began gathering closer, tears glistening on their cheeks as they stared at the lifeless forms of their loved ones. I left Lulu’s side and stepped down to join Kimahri, taking my place beside Yuna at the base of the steps. She glanced back at me with a soft, sad smile, her eyes heavy with the burden she carried. I gave her a small nod in return, a silent reassurance.

Behind us, footsteps creaked along the boardwalk. The faint voices of Tidus and Lulu reached my ears.

“Uh, what’s a sending? Are we going somewhere?” Tidus asked, his usual cluelessness apparent even now.

Lulu sighed, a mix of weariness and exasperation. “You truly are clueless. Are you sure it’s just your memory that’s the problem?”

I tuned out Lulu’s explanation, focusing instead on Yuna as she exchanged a respectful bow with the elder. After a brief prayer, she removed her boots, setting them carefully aside. Her staff came next, clasped in both hands as she closed her eyes, centering herself.

When she opened them, there was a calm determination in her gaze. She guided her staff downward and to her side as she began to walk forward.

With each step, Yuna moves with an ethereal grace, her feet gliding just above the water’s surface as she quite literally walks on water. The air shifts, a strange pull settling in my chest, as if the very atmosphere is holding its breath. She stops near the center of the circle of caskets, her presence commanding yet tender.

The torches lining the dock flicker, their flames shimmering unnaturally before burning a bright, ghostly blue. A soft hum fills the air, voices carried on the wind like a mournful song. Then, Yuna begins to dance.

One by one, pyreflies rise from the caskets, swirling around her in trails of luminous light. The water beneath her feet stirs, forming a whirlpool that springs upward into a shimmering fountain. Yuna’s movements are fluid, like a ribbon caught in a gentle breeze, and the water carries her higher as if offering her to the heavens. The pyreflies spiral along the column of water, escaping into the sky, their glow fading into the distant stars.

The dead need guidance.

The villagers watch in awe, their grief spilling out as the sending unfolds. Tears stream down faces; quiet sobs break into wails of sorrow. I glance back just in time to see a small boy reaching out toward a pyrefly that floats near him. It rests briefly on his tiny fingers, gliding over his cheek before slipping away, fading into the night.

And yet, amidst all the beauty, an unspoken question lingers in my mind. What about the living?

As the last of the pyreflies ascends, Yuna finishes her dance and returns to the dock, her bare feet touching the wooden planks as if the weight of the ritual had only just settled on her. She kneels, performing one final prayer for the villagers before rising to her feet.

I turn to find Tidus staring, his face pale, his expression conflicted—caught between awe and something darker. There’s a twisted sense of relief in seeing it. At least you understand. There’s beauty in the sending, but that doesn’t mean you ever want to witness it again.

“Must be tough,” Tidus says, his voice low as he turns to Lulu. “Being a summoner, I mean.”

“Yuna chose her path,” Lulu replies, her tone matter-of-fact, though a hint of something heavier underlines her words. “She knew from the beginning what it meant.” She pauses, her eyes flickering toward Yuna. “All we can do is protect her along the way… until the end.”

Tidus furrows his brow, confusion etched into his features. “Until the… end? What’s the end?”

The atmosphere thickens, tension crackling like an unseen storm. Villagers, previously lost in mourning, glance toward him, their gazes wary. My eyes dart around, taking in the sudden shift in mood. Something doesn’t add up. I try to catch Lulu’s eye, silently asking for answers, but she avoids my gaze entirely, her focus locked on Yuna.

Finally, she responds, her voice firm yet evasive. “Until she defeats Sin.”

Her answer satisfies no one, least of all me. As Lulu steps away to join Yuna, I catch Yuna’s worried expression as she approaches.

“I hope… I hope I did okay,” she says softly, her voice tinged with doubt.

Lulu breathes a quiet laugh, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You did very well. They’ve reached the Farplane by now. But… no tears next time, hm?”

From where I stood, I took in the exchange silently. Both Yuna and Lulu seem to avoid looking in my direction, their unwillingness to meet my eyes stirring unease. What aren’t they telling me?

For now, I let it go. There’ll be time for questions later. Right now, rest is all we can afford.

—

The villagers, ever grateful for Yuna’s sending, offered us what they could: free beds and what food they could scrounge up at the inn, one of the few structures left standing after Sin’s attack. The upper floor, an open-air circular space, held rows of simple beds arranged parallel to one another, separated by only a few feet.

I lay on my back, staring at the stars through the broken roof, their light too far away to offer any comfort. Sleep refuses to take me, my mind running laps I can’t stop. Every time I close my eyes, I see Kilika—the destruction, the mourning faces, the helplessness.

A loud snore cuts through the silence, and I can’t help but turn my head toward the source. Wakka sprawls across his bed, an arm and a leg dangling over the edge, pillows and blankets tossed carelessly onto the floor. Despite the noise, a soft smile tugs at my lips. He and the Aurochs worked themselves to the bone today, rebuilding what they could of the shattered port. Everyone did. It’s no wonder the rest of the group is already fast asleep.

Turning back to my left side, I let the quiet return and focus on the stars again. What if my life ends here, on Spira?

Stop. Don’t go there.

I close my eyes tightly, trying to banish the thought. I try to picture home, but the memory feels too distant, like trying to grasp a shadow. I exhale a long, frustrated breath and roll onto my back again.

The heat isn’t helping either. Spira feels like it’s caught in an eternal summer, the air thick and warm, unchanging. It’s as though the seasons here don’t know how to move forward, much like the people trapped in Sin’s endless cycle.

My gaze drifts to my left hand as I lift it above my face, slowly curling and uncurling my fingers.

It never snowed in Besaid, I think absently. I wonder if it snows anywhere in Spira.

A small pulse of magic hums at my fingertips, and with a flick of concentration, a light mist gathers above me. Tiny snowflakes begin to fall, drifting softly in the still air. They land on my face, cool and fleeting, like whispers against my skin.

I lower my hand, letting the faint magic fade as my eyes close. The mist lingers, and for a moment, I’m somewhere else—a memory, distant but comforting. I’m sitting by a frosted window with a steaming cup of tea in my hands, watching the snowfall over a quiet city.

The weight in my chest lifts, just a little. The memory isn’t real, not here, but it’s enough to let the tension ease from my body.

As the snowflakes melt away, I let the memory carry me into sleep.

–

Wakka stirs before the rest of us, his movements loud enough to pull me from my half-sleep. Cracking an eye open, I watch him quietly get dressed. He spots me awake and crouches low, bringing his hand to his mouth in an attempt to muffle his voice.

“The Aurochs are gonna help out a bit more, ya? Tell the others to meet us at the jungle entrance,” he whispers.

I groan lightly and give him a tired nod. Satisfied, he pats my shoulder before slipping out the door.

After what feels like only a few minutes, I finally force myself to sit up, releasing a frustrated sigh as I stretch. My muscles ache faintly, a reminder of yesterday’s events. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I glance around the room and notice Lulu stirring. Without looking, I pass along Wakka’s message, offering her at least the illusion of privacy.

“I’m heading down to speak with the innkeeper,” I mutter once I hear a faint acknowledgement.

The spiral staircase creaks faintly under my steps as I descend into the main hall. The innkeeper perks up from behind the counter, her face lighting with a warm smile as I approach. She asks how the stay was, and I thank her for her hospitality, exchanging a few pleasantries before Lulu and Yuna join me downstairs.

Raising a brow, I glance behind them. “Where’s the kid?”

“He’s still sleeping,” Lulu replies curtly, arms crossed. “And as I recall… he’s Wakka’s responsibility.”

She’s not wrong. At this point, the kid’s just a tagalong. Yuna, however, hesitates, casting a conflicted look toward the staircase.

Shrugging, I offer my thanks to the innkeeper one last time and mention for her to let Tidus know where we’ve gone when he wakes up.

“Don’t worry. He’ll catch up. Wakka won’t let him wander off for long,” I say, trying to reassure Yuna.

Before she can argue, I continue. “We’re not leaving him completely. Think of it as us clearing the way through the jungle. Besides,” I smirk, throwing Lulu a knowing glance, “do you really think Wakka will let us leave him behind?”

Yuna’s lips twitch with the hint of a smile as she considers this. Finally, she nods, and that’s the end of it.

Outside, Kimahri stands stoically near the entrance, his ever-watchful gaze scanning the area. As we make our way through the village toward the jungle, we pass Wakka working alongside the villagers. He waves us on ahead, his usual cheerful energy undeterred despite the circumstances.

The planks creak beneath our feet as we walk. Villagers pause in their work to nod or offer quiet prayers of thanks as we pass. The weight of their gratitude is humbling, though it only serves to remind me of how much they’ve lost.

After about half an hour of walking, we reached the edge of the jungle. The air shifts slightly, cooler beneath the canopy of trees. As we prepare to move forward, Yuna slows her steps and finally comes to a complete stop.

“Yuna,” Lulu’s voice is calm, but there’s a hint of warning in it.

The summoner interrupts without turning. “He should be here.”

Kimahri shakes his head slowly, his stoic expression betraying nothing. Lulu glances back at me, but I shrug, leaving this one to her.

Before she can say anything, Yuna continues, her voice steady but earnest. “I want to take him with us… for the whole pilgrimage.”

Lulu’s expression hardens ever so slightly in confusion, but I’m the one who speaks first, my surprise evident. “You want to make the guy a guardian?”

Surprise shifts into quiet amusement, and I find myself chuckling softly as Lulu is caught completely off guard. Watching this play out, I can’t blame her. Even though I noticed the hints of a crush back in Besaid, Yuna’s behavior here is still surprising. For all her joy and warmth, Yuna has always been reserved about her personal desires. Since stepping into the role of a summoner, she rarely—if ever—does something purely for herself.

Before Yuna can launch into a heartfelt explanation, movement catches my eye. Sure enough, Wakka and Tidus emerge from the path, the latter dragging his feet slightly as though half-asleep.

“They’re here,” I announce, cutting Yuna off mid-thought.

Her shoulders relax slightly, but before she can speak, Lulu strides toward the pair with an air of barely concealed disapproval.

“She wants you with us,” she says flatly, her tone heavy with disappointment.

Tidus barely has time to blink, much less respond, before Yuna steps forward, clarifying with her usual earnestness. “I want to ask you to be my guardian.”

Wakka’s reaction is immediate—and loud. “Yuna! What? This is no time for jokes, ya?” He practically leaps behind the summoner, waving his hands around like the idea is physically painful. “He may be a blitzball whiz kid, but against fiends, he’s a total newbie!”

Yuna turns to him with a soft, almost pleading expression. “Not a guardian then… I just want him nearby.”

The look of utter disbelief on Wakka’s face is enough to make me snort, and I quickly raise a hand to cover my laughter. The man staggers back as though Yuna just suggested something truly outrageous.

Tidus steps forward, his brow furrowed. “Wait. What do you mean?”

Yuna stumbles over her words, fumbling through a few half-formed sentences, clearly struggling to explain. Lulu, however, steps in to put an end to the chaos.

“We’re all going to the temple anyway. Can’t this wait until later?” Her tone brooks no argument, and for once, it seems to work.

Kimahri, apparently done with all of us, huffs loudly and starts down the forest path without a word. His long strides carry him quickly out of sight.

Yuna nods in agreement, her face tinged with embarrassment. She turns to Tidus. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Tidus interrupts, his tone light but confused. “I’m just… not sure what’s going on.”

I roll my eyes, stepping away from the group. “Are you guys done flirting yet?” I tease, not bothering to wait for a response. Kimahri’s already a jog ahead, and someone needs to keep up.

Behind me, Yuna and Tidus fall silent before resuming into quiet conversation, while Lulu and Wakka remain stubbornly silent. The atmosphere shifts as we press deeper into the jungle. A cool breeze drifts in from the ocean, rustling the leaves and shaking them loose. Sunlight filters through the branches in flickering beams, casting patterns on the ground.

The forest hums with life, its natural song blending with the faint crunch of leaves beneath our feet. Despite the tension hanging in the air, there’s an odd serenity in this moment. A brief reprieve, perhaps, before the trials ahead.

If yesterday didn’t happen, this would’ve made for a nice morning walk.

Kimahri halts a few feet ahead, his hand instinctively tightening around his spear. The signal is clear: enemies up ahead. Without hesitation, everyone snaps to attention, falling into position as we rush to join him.

Three plant-like fiends fan out before the blue-furred warrior, each more twisted and unnatural than the last. One of them moves to attack first, launching an oversized seed from its grotesque, gaping flower. The seed smacks into Kimahri, who barely flinches before countering with a powerful upward swing of his lance.

The battle ends quickly, fire magic from both Lulu and me searing through the remaining fiends. The charred remains of the plants scatter across the forest floor as silence returns, broken only by the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Not far ahead, across a narrow stone bridge, a hulking fiend looms. It stands motionless for now, but the tension it exudes is palpable.

Lulu steps closer to get a better look. Her expression hardens. I don’t need her to say it. I already know.

It’s the same kind of monster we fought in Besaid a year ago—the same type that cost me everything.

A year ago, just seeing it would have frozen me in place. But now? Now it only grates on my nerves.

“Should we kill it?” My voice comes out steady.

“We could find an alternate path,” Lulu suggests, though there’s hesitation in her tone. “It might take a little more time, but…”

“If we don’t deal with it now,” Tidus cuts in, “won’t it just attack the people at the port?”

I glance back at the group. Wakka looks unconvinced, his brow furrowed, while Yuna already has her staff in hand, her resolve clear. Kimahri stands further back, arms crossed, his expression unreadable— half the time, I’m not even sure he’s registering words. Tidus, for his part, leans casually with his hands behind his head, a faint grin tugging at his lips. Meanwhile, Lulu considers the blonde’s words carefully.

“He’s got a point,” I say, turning back toward the fiend. “After everything Kilika’s been through, we owe it to them to take this thing out before it can cause more harm.”

Wakka finally relents, his usual grin returning. “All right, then. Let’s make it quick, ya?”

As we approach the bridge, the monster’s grotesque form becomes clearer—its bulbous body quivers, and its tentacles writhe like they’re anticipating the fight. But my attention shifts to something else: two figures waiting on the far side of the bridge. The taller one’s fiery red hair stands out starkly against the green of the forest.

“Luzzu? Gatta?” Yuna perks up at the sight of them, her voice cutting through the tension.

“Ah! Lady Summoner!” Luzzu quickly bows, his hand pressed to his chest in prayer. Gatta follows suit, though not without a quick shove from his mentor.

“The road’s blocked here by that Ochu fiend,” Gatta informs us, motioning toward the massive creature.

“Judging by the size alone, it’s by no means a regular Ochu,” Luzzu adds, his voice grim. “Best you all steer clear, Lady Summoner. You and your guardians should find another path forward. No point in risking the pilgrimage ending here.”

I take a moment to glance at the pair, noting the genuine concern in Luzzu’s expression. “Appreciate the concern,” I say, my tone dry. “But we’re not leaving this thing for civilians to deal with.”

Gatta opens his mouth to argue, but Yuna steps forward, cutting him off with a polite bow. “Thank you for your concern, Luzzu, Gatta. But please, stand back. We’ll handle this.” Her warm smile disarms them completely.

Luzzu hesitates for a moment before nodding. “O-of course, Lady Summoner. Come, Gatta, let’s give them space.” He grabs the younger man by the arm and practically drags him away.

As they pass, Wakka playfully ruffles Gatta’s hair, earning an annoyed grunt from the younger crusader.

The path clear, we turn our attention to the fiend. Yuna takes the lead, standing fearlessly before the massive creature, her staff held high. The rest of us fall into position, weapons drawn and ready.

My fingers tighten around my weapon as I shift its gears, the mechanism transforming it into its bladed form. Holding the hilt just inches from my cheek, I draw my right shoulder back, the blade’s sharp edge angled outward. My stance is deliberate, balanced—like an arched bow ready to fire.

Memories flicker through my mind: Kimahri’s firm corrections during sparring sessions, Lulu’s calm but relentless guidance on the art of casting.

The Ochu senses us now. Its grotesque tentacles rise high above its bloated form, thrashing in warning. Then, with a deafening screech, it swings one down in a vicious arc toward Tidus.

The blonde’s reflexes don’t disappoint. He ducks and rolls out of the way with ease, a grin flashing across his face.

The battle begins.

The black mage holds her ground at a safe distance, her crimson eyes narrowing as she calls upon her first spell. The familiar hum of power charges the air, and an eerie darkness briefly envelops the battlefield. A crackling bolt of lightning splits the sky, crashing down on the fiend with a deafening roar. The creature screeches in agony as electricity courses through its grotesque body.

Kimahri and I spring into action the moment Lulu’s spell hits. The ronso dashes to the right, his lance cutting through the air with precision. I veer to the left, mirroring his movements. Our coordinated slashes rip into the fiend’s writhing mass, each strike adding to the chorus of pain erupting from the creature. Physical and magical damage blend seamlessly, forcing the Ochu into a fit of rage.

With a guttural shriek, the fiend extends its tentacles outward and begins to spin violently. The sheer force of the rotation sends debris flying in all directions. Kimahri is grazed but manages to retreat to a safer distance. I leap back in time, performing a clean flip that clears me from danger. As I land, I twist my weapon’s gears, shifting it into gun mode. With practiced precision, I unleash a volley of quick shots, each bullet tearing into the fiend’s plant-like exterior. Green gas seeps from the damaged pores, filling the air with a noxious haze.

Tidus, oblivious to the spreading toxin, charges forward recklessly. Wakka, seeing the danger, hurls his blitzball directly at the blonde’s head. The ball connects with a satisfying thud.

“A-Oww! What’s that for?!” Tidus yells, halting mid-charge. He spins around, the idiot, glaring at Wakka with a mixture of confusion and irritation.

The fiend, seizing the opportunity, raises a massive tentacle to strike the distracted blonde. Yuna’s voice cuts through the chaos in a desperate warning, but the attack is already descending.

Cursing under my breath.

It’s far too soon to draw on this gift again, my body is still recovering from yesterday.

I feel it—the all-too-familiar pressure building behind my eyes with an added sharpness and sear, as if my skull is about to split. The pain races down my neck and coils into my arm like molten fire. My vision warps as I snap, a wave of magic rippling outwards, the edges of the world blurring as time itself slows to a crawl once more. Despite the pain, my movements are light.

I have to do this quickly.

The resounding tick of the clock echoes in the suffocating stillness, each beat sending a fresh wave of strain through my body. My brain screams in protest, but I force myself forward, weaving through the poisonous haze and past the fiend’s writhing limbs.

I reach the boy and lift him over my shoulder in a flash, the motion sends a jolt of pain down my spine, and I stagger backward, teeth clenched against the mounting agony as we blitz to a safer distance. Time clicks back into place with a jarring thud, and the tentacle slams into the ground where Tidus had stood just moments before.

“W-Woah! Hey, let me go!” Tidus protests, squirming like a fish out of water.

Gritting my teeth, I unceremoniously drop him onto the ground, nearly losing my balance as I do. He lands with a grunt, his face twisting in embarrassment as he rubs his backside. My vision swims briefly, the edges darkening, but I steady myself, inhaling deeply to keep the dizziness at bay.

Yuna rushes over, her face pale with worry. She kneels beside Tidus, but her eyes dart to me, concern flickering in them. I wave her off before she can say anything, masking my discomfort with a wry grin.

“You sure you want him to be a guardian?” I quip, my voice steadier than I feel. The teasing grin I manage feels forced, but it does the trick. Tidus’s cheeks flush crimson as he glares at me, his embarrassment radiating like a beacon.

Meanwhile, Wakka and Kimahri keep the fiend occupied, their movements sharp and deliberate as they dodge its relentless attacks. The party quickly regroups, preparing for another round. I grip my weapon tightly, forcing my trembling fingers to steady as the gears click into place.

The strain from the time magic still lingers in every part of me, a reminder of its cost. My breathing is shallow, my heart pounding erratically, but I push it all aside. This fiend wasn’t going to win—not here, not now.

Lulu doesn’t miss a beat as she keeps one eye on the ongoing battle, her voice sharp and unwavering. “You never turn your back on an enemy. That’s an easy way to get yourself—and the rest of the team—seriously injured.”

“It’s not my fault, Wakka—” Tidus starts defensively.

“You dropped your guard, did you not?” Lulu cuts him off mid-sentence, her tone leaving no room for excuses.

“…Yeah, well, this guy saved me anyways,” the blonde mutters, his voice losing its bite as he gestures toward me.

Yuna grows quiet with tension. She doesn’t stick around. The summoner grips her staff and rushes toward Wakka and Kimahri to support them in keeping the Ochu at bay, leaving the three of us behind.

Lulu’s gaze shifts from the battle, turning her full attention to me. She eyes me critically, her crimson eyes narrowing as she takes in my posture, the uneven rise and fall of my chest, and the sweat beading along my temple. Finally, she speaks, her voice softer but no less serious, fully aware of the cost when I mess with time. “Are you alright?”

The kid turns to me, startled by her question, and his expression shifts as he takes in my state. I try to straighten up, but the fatigue weighs heavily on me, and the ache behind my eyes hasn’t let up since the spell. I swipe the back of my hand across my forehead, but it does little to stop the sting of sweat slipping into my right eye. I shut it tightly, forcing myself to regain control of my breathing.

“I’m fine…” I manage, though the rasp in my voice betrays me. I shift my weapon in my grip, aiming for a tone that’s steadier than I feel. “But this needs to end… quickly.”

Tidus, his earlier bravado faltering, asks hesitantly, “Hey… why are you—?”

“He stopped time,” Lulu answers flatly, not even letting him finish. Her tone carries both admiration and exasperation as she continues, “A very difficult feat, and something only he seems capable of. It’s a spell that comes at a cost—one that should only be used in emergencies.”

Her words feel heavier than they sound, like they’re aimed more at me than Tidus. The way her eyes linger on me for a moment too long is enough to drive the point home.

Raising my free hand in a placating gesture, I force a half-smile. “Easy, Lu. He’s just a kid. I’ll be fine. As long as everyone keeps their distance for the rest of the fight and I don’t have to go and do it again, I’ll be fine.”

Lulu narrows her eyes, not entirely convinced, but she doesn’t press further. Instead, she turns sharply, her dress swirling behind her as she strides back into the fray, the flicker of magic already gathering at her fingertips.

I glance at Tidus one last time. He’s staring at me, wide-eyed and at a loss for words. His earlier cockiness has melted away, replaced by genuine concern. I rest a hand on his shoulder briefly, giving it a firm pat before adjusting the grip on my weapon. “Stick close to Wakka. You’ll get the hang of it,” I tell him, my voice steady despite the exhaustion gnawing at the edges of my mind.

With that, I shift my focus back to the battlefield, the pull of adrenaline overpowering the strain as I follow Lulu’s lead, ready to finish this.

—

The battle stretched on longer than any of us anticipated, but we eventually settled into a rhythm. Even Tidus, after his earlier blunder, stepped up his game and began fighting with a focus that surprised me. Lulu’s magic, however, became the real turning point. Her spells somehow hit harder, tearing into the Ochu with devastating force.

It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed this phenomenon. Over the past year of training under her, I’d learned that magic seemed to draw strength from emotions. Her spells were already powerful, but when fueled by anger or frustration, they became downright destructive. The thought made me smirk despite myself. Honestly, it’s a miracle Wakka hasn’t been scorched during one of their countless arguments… yet.

Kimahri, on the other hand, seemed almost… exhilarated. His eyes never left the fiend, his every movement calculated and precise. He fought with an intensity that bordered on feral, but the moment the fight concluded, I knew he’d return to his composed, stoic self. It was fascinating to watch him in action—proof of why Yuna trusted him so implicitly.

Meanwhile, Wakka, Yuna, and Tidus were developing into a surprisingly effective team. Wakka’s skill with long-range attacks and ailments kept the Ochu on its back foot, while Tidus darted in and out for quick strikes, his agility proving invaluable. Whenever Tidus took a hit—and there were plenty—Yuna was quick to heal him, her focus unwavering. They worked together like gears in a well-oiled machine, each compensating for the other’s weaknesses. It was satisfying to see, and, I admit, a little reassuring.

I fell into a support role, watching from a safer distance and assisting where I could. The strain of using time magic two days in a row was beginning to take its toll, the bone-deep fatigue settling in as the adrenaline wore off. My legs felt heavier with every step, my chest tight with exhaustion. Sin’s attack on Kilika Port had momentarily distracted me from the lingering effects of the magic I’d used to save Yuna earlier, but now it was catching up to me fast. Throwing myself onto the frontlines would’ve only dragged the others down, so I stuck to fire support and minor healing spells, letting the others take the lead.

Even Yuna, for all her determination, held back when it mattered most. Multiple times she moved to summon Valefor, only to be stopped by Lulu. “We’ve already used one trump card,” the black mage had said sharply. “Save the summoning for now!”

Tidus protested, of course, but Lulu resolutely ignored him, her focus never wavering.

When the Lord Ochu finally fell, its massive frame hit the ground with a thunderous crash, shaking the earth beneath our feet. Clusters of glowing pyreflies burst free from its body, swirling upward into the sky like a radiant farewell. The battle was over, and we all took a moment to catch our breath, watching the pyreflies drift away.

“That was amazing!” Gatta’s voice broke the silence as he stumbled across the bridge, his face alight with excitement. He skidded to a halt in front of Yuna, practically bouncing on his heels. “You and your guardians were incredible!”

Luzzu, trailing behind him at a more measured pace, offered a respectful nod. “So this is the strength of a summoner and her guardians…” he murmured, his tone heavy with a mix of admiration and reflection.

Gatta turned back to his mentor, snapping to attention as if suddenly reminded of his role. “We’re going to get stronger too!” he declared before waving and darting off ahead. Luzzu sighed, rubbing the back of his head with a weary smile before addressing us again.

“He’s right,” he said. “We’ve got our own responsibilities as crusaders. Lady Summoner, guardians, we wish you luck on your pilgrimage. May Yevon guide you.” With a final bow, he jogged after Gatta, leaving us alone once more.

The echoes of the battle still lingered in the air, and as I looked around at the group, a sense of quiet camaraderie settled over us. We’d faced a dangerous foe and come out stronger—not just as individuals, but as a team.

Chapter Text

“These stone steps have a history, you know?” Wakka declares, puffing out his chest as he plants his hands on his hips. The sheer pride in his voice is almost enough to make me forget about the intimidating set of stairs looming just behind him—the only path to the temple stretching upward into the clouds.

I let out a long, exasperated sigh, my shoulders sagging as I feel my energy drain just from looking at the steep incline. “Pretty sure this is almost as bad as fighting sinspawn,” I mutter, my voice tinged with resignation.

Wakka shakes with laughter, clearly unaffected by the daunting climb. “Yep! Lord Ohalland trained here at his peak,” he says, as though that bit of trivia should inspire us to charge upward with vigor.

Tidus groans audibly, slouching in disbelief. “Yeah, sure… great.”

Behind us, the Aurochs finally catch up, their spirits undampened as they stretch and chuckle amongst themselves. A few of them glance at Tidus, smirking like they’re sizing him up. The blonde immediately picks up on their challenge and steps forward, puffing out his chest in mock bravado. “You think you can beat me?” he calls out, confidence practically radiating off him.

Wakka grins and waves Yuna over, clearly eager to turn this into a spectacle. “Yuna, if you would.”

The summoner obliges, a mischievous smile lighting up her face. She raises her arm and shouts, “Ready!…” But before anyone else can even process what’s happening, she bolts forward, laughter trailing behind her as she takes the lead up the steps.

“Hey, hey!!” Wakka yells, running after her as the Aurochs join in, whooping and hollering. Tidus scrambles to react, yelling as he sprints to catch up.

Chuckling to myself, I glance at Lulu and catch her shaking her head, muttering, “Hah… children.” Even Kimahri, stoic as ever, allows a toothy grin to break through his usually serious expression.

I turn my gaze back to the steps and sigh again, muttering mostly to myself, “Just so we’re clear, I’m not running up those steps.”

Lulu doesn’t respond, simply falling into stride beside me. The three of us take the stairs at a leisurely pace, each step echoing against the stone as we ascend in silence. The stillness is broken when Lulu speaks, her tone calm and measured. “Your magic is improving.”

I glance back at her and shrug. “Thanks, but a once-a-day spell isn’t exactly something to write home about. Especially if it leaves me this winded afterward.”

Her crimson eyes fix on me, unwavering. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’ve told you this before—your version of time magic is far more intricate than any standard spell. While haste is impressive on its own, you’re able to stop time completely. That alone puts you in a league of your own. And it’s not just about utility. You’re capable of amplifying your damage output or protecting others when it matters most. That makes it invaluable.”

I let her words sink in, but I can’t shake the weight of my own limitations. “Yeah, but what good is it if I’m too tired to fight afterward?” I reply quietly, keeping my eyes on the steps ahead.

Before Lulu can respond, a deep, gravelly voice cuts through the air. “You fight well.”

The unexpected compliment from Kimahri startles me just enough to make me stumble slightly on the step. I glance over at him, letting out a small breath of laughter. “Thanks, buddy.”

Kimahri narrows his eyes, his tail flicking. “I am Kimahri. Not buddy.”

I grin, shaking my head as I return my attention to the climb. “Got it, Kimahri.”

The conversation dies down as we continue upward. The rhythmic sound of our footsteps against the stone fills the air, accompanied by the occasional distant laughter from the group ahead. After a while, I glance at Lulu again, a question lingering in my mind.

“Hey… when Yuna performed the Sending back in Kilika…” I trail off, trying to find the right words.

The chaotic scene at the top of the stairs unfolds like a nightmare. The Aurochs barrel past us, their panicked yells doing little to prepare me for Wakka’s shout from the peak. His face is pale, and his voice trembles with urgency.

“Everyone, quick! Sinspawn!”

“Shit—” The word slips out as my hand instinctively snaps back to grip my weapon. The weight of the moment propels me forward as we charge up the last stretch of stairs.

At the summit, we find Yuna and Tidus standing between two grotesque creatures, their tendrils swaying menacingly. Just as we begin to move, the ground splits with a deafening crack, and another monstrosity bursts from below. A massive shell, armored and segmented, glints menacingly in the sunlight, its three protective layers clearly guarding something within.

The tension in the air is suffocating as the team instantly falls into formation, each of us positioning to cover another’s blind spots. My pulse races as I take in the other two sinspawn: twisted plant-like beasts with long, writhing tendrils that lash out unpredictably. These things are primed to kill.

Yuna, her breathing calm and measured despite the chaos, clasps her staff tightly in front of her. I see the faintest shimmer of determination in her eyes as she begins her summoning. The wind shifts, almost as if bowing to her will, and a glowing sigil materializes beneath her feet.

“Here we go!” Tidus’s voice breaks through the rising tension, his enthusiasm cutting through the dread. I can’t help but roll my eyes slightly at his excitement, but I agree silently—this is definitely the right time for an aeon.

The air crackles with raw energy as Valefor descends gracefully from the sky, landing behind Yuna. The massive bird-like aeon radiates an intimidating power, its wings flexing as if challenging the sinspawn. Without hesitation, Valefor takes to the skies again, its vantage point rendering the tendrils’ wild attacks futile as they swipe uselessly at the air.

Yuna steps forward, her staff spinning in an intricate circle. Valefor mirrors her movements, its braided mane whipping in time with her command. A glowing sigil forms in front of its beak, pulsing with concentrated magical energy. Yuna’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade:

“Now!”

Valefor unleashes its devastating attack. A surge of light rockets through the sigil, splitting into a barrage of brilliant projectiles. Each beam hammers into the shelled creature with pinpoint precision, the sheer force of the assault echoing across the mountaintop.

I can’t help the wide grin that spreads across my face. Yuna’s ferocity is something else. Fast, efficient, and unrelenting—exactly my style.

But my victory lap is short-lived. A guttural screech emanates from the armored shell as it begins to crack and open.

“Of course,” I mutter under my breath. It wasn’t going to be that easy.

The tendrils retract into the ground, revealing themselves as grotesque hands. The sinspawn stretches out its distorted, mushroom-like form, its twisted body seething with rage. Without warning, it rears back and vomits a massive ball of acid straight at Yuna.

“Yuna!” I shout, already moving, but Valefor is faster. The aeon swoops in, placing itself between the summoner and the attack. The acid splashes across its body, and the sickening sound of flesh sizzling fills the air. Valefor cries out in agony, its body trembling as the corrosive substance eats away at its wings.

But even weakened, Valefor responds to Yuna’s command. With a final push, the aeon swings its wings forward, conjuring a sonic wave that strikes the sinspawn directly. Though the attack isn’t particularly powerful, the creature falters, its movements betraying the significant damage Valefor had inflicted earlier.

I glance at Lulu and Wakka, expecting them to jump in now that the fiend is vulnerable. But to my surprise, they hold their ground, watching intently. Kimahri mirrors their stance from the opposite side, his spear held at the ready but unmoving.

What are they waiting for? I think, my grip tightening on my weapon.

Tidus, however, is oblivious to the tension. He’s on the sidelines, cheering loudly, as if this is just another blitzball match. His enthusiasm grates on me slightly, but at least he’s not getting in the way.

“Shouldn’t we go in?” I yell, my voice barely carrying over the chaotic battlefield.

Lulu turns her head just enough to glance at me, her expression stoic, but she simply shakes her head before focusing her gaze back on the fight.

What?

My irritation bubbles to the surface as I watch Valefor engage the sinspawn alone. Yuna, poised and commanding, directs her aeon with precision. Valefor’s attacks are relentless, but it’s not enough. The sinspawn is still standing, its grotesque hands flailing wildly as it resists the aeon’s efforts.

Then it happens. The sinspawn lands a brutal strike, and Valefor falters, letting out a mournful cry before its body dissolves into a flurry of pyreflies. The light scatters into the air, leaving the battlefield eerily quiet for a brief moment.

Finally, the veteran guardians move.

The shift in their demeanor tells me they’ve deemed it time to end this fight. But their delayed action leaves a prickling irritation at the back of my mind. What was the point of waiting until now? Suppressing my frustration, I fall into step with the group, resuming my position near Yuna.

“Focus,” I mutter to myself, pushing my questions aside. The sinspawn wasn’t finished yet.

Without hesitation, I darted forward, my weapon held low at my hip. The sinspawn reacts immediately, its tendrils whipping toward me in a vicious arc. Timing my movements, I kick off the ground and slide beneath its sweeping arms, the rush of air grazing my back as I barely clear the attack.

Kimahri leaps overhead, his spear glowing faintly with energy as he executes a precise dive. The fiend howls, its attention momentarily diverted by the sharp strike. That brief window is all I need. Closing the gap, I slash twice at its exposed side, my blade carving deep into the fiend’s flesh. Before it can retaliate, I sidestep, narrowly avoiding an arm slamming into the ground beside me.

Using the momentum of the creature’s swing, I plant both feet against the tendril mid-attack, launching myself backward. The movement propels me safely out of its range as I regroup with the others.

Lulu takes her cue, summoning flames that lick and sear at the sinspawn’s grotesque form. The fiery burst causes the fiend to screech, its arms flailing as it attempts to extinguish the burning pain. Wakka follows up with his blitzball, the sphere crackling with electricity as it slams into the beast’s torso. The impact jolts the creature, leaving it vulnerable.

Tidus charges in, his energy unrelenting. He flips forward, his blade coming down in a clean, powerful arc that smashes directly into the sinspawn’s face. To my surprise—and mild relief—he dodges the counterattacks with far more precision this time, weaving between the sinspawn’s arms with ease. His movements are sharper, more focused, as if the earlier scolding from Lulu finally sank in.

Kimahri and Wakka close the distance, their combined strikes further disorienting the creature. Meanwhile, Yuna steps forward, her hands glowing faintly as she chants under her breath. Her calm presence is a stark contrast to the chaos around her.

The sinspawn, now frantic, spews out a wave of venom. My body tenses instinctively, but Yuna’s spell activates almost immediately, neutralizing the toxic cloud before it can spread.

The battle is shifting in our favor. The sinspawn, though still dangerous, is beginning to falter under the relentless onslaught. With Yuna’s support and the team’s coordination, victory feels within reach. For the first time since this fight began, a glimmer of hope flickers in my chest. This thing was going down. Together, we were going to finish it.

“Lu!”

The black mage glances at me, her crimson eyes calm yet sharp as she raises her hand toward the air in a silent signal. Responding instinctively, I raise my opposite hand to meet her intent. Together, we weave flames that roar to life, their intensity doubling as we sync the flow of magic between us. The spell vibrates with raw heat, the flames swirling and coalescing until I seize control momentarily. Condensing the energy, I force the roaring blaze into a dense sphere no larger than a clenched fist.

Lulu nods imperceptibly, and with a synchronized motion, we both thrust our hands forward. The condensed sphere explodes into a searing beam of flame that hurtles toward the sinspawn. It screeches and curls away too late, the concentrated fire taking a chunk out of its grotesque shoulder while shattering one of its protective shells into jagged shards.

The creature’s response is immediate and violent. It unleashes an ear-splitting screech, the sound vibrating in my chest, and flings its tendrils outward with crushing force. Tidus, Wakka, and Kimahri are thrown back like ragdolls, their bodies skidding across the ground as the sinspawn suddenly rears up, towering above us. Its arms extend, and the appendages harden visibly, glinting dangerously as they swing downward in consecutive strikes.

Kimahri takes the first blow head-on, barely flinching, though his narrowed eyes reflect growing rage. Wakka dives to avoid one strike, but his recovery is too slow to dodge the next. Before the blow can land, Tidus moves with surprising speed, deflecting the attack just in time with his blade.

Then, the beast turns its focus on Yuna. Three hardened appendages arc toward her, moving too fast for her to evade. I barely have time to shout a warning before Yuna reacts instinctively. A glowing barrier forms in front of her, shimmering faintly as the tentacles crash against it. The impact sends ripples through the air, and I can see the strain on her face as she struggles to maintain the shield.

Lulu moves to cast a spell, but the sinspawn counters swiftly, unleashing a torrent of water magic. The blast sends her flying back several feet, her soaked form landing hard on the stone ground. She doesn’t rise immediately.

There’s no time to assess her condition. The barrier protecting Yuna begins to crack under the relentless assault. Without hesitation, I sprint toward her, weaving through the lashing tendrils that strike the ground like thunderbolts around me. The air vibrates with each impact, dust and debris scattering in all directions.

Sliding beneath the writhing appendages, I come to a halt just before Yuna’s failing barrier. Planting my left hand firmly on the stone beneath me, I channel the biting chill of ice through my arm. A fast, piercing cold spreads from my fingers, and jagged spikes of solid ice erupt upward, impaling the tentacles attacking the barrier. The frozen appendages shatter, breaking the sinspawn’s hold. Yuna collapses onto the ground, gasping for air, her strength clearly spent.

The tension in the air shifts abruptly, a low crackle building behind me. My stomach drops as I glance back to see Lulu, her soaked figure rising slowly with a deadly calm etched into her features. The air around her feels charged, vibrating with barely contained fury. Lightning gathers above her in sharp, erratic flashes, her outstretched hand directing the storm.

“Move!” she commands sharply.

Wrapping an arm around Yuna, I pivot and dash out of the danger zone just as the first bolt strikes. What follows is a relentless barrage of lightning, each strike hitting with pinpoint precision. The sinspawn writhes and howls as the bolts slam into its arms, torso, and finally, its grotesque face. The overwhelming force of the magic brings the monster to its knees before one final, deafening strike splits the air, silencing it for good.

The sinspawn’s body convulses before collapsing, its form fading into shards of glass-like fragments. Pyreflies rise slowly from the remains, their ethereal glow illuminating the battlefield as they drift into the sky.

Breathing heavily, the party begins to regroup, each of us catching our breath in the aftermath. I watch the sinspawn’s final remnants vanish, the faint hum of pyreflies dispersing leaving an unsettling quiet. The battle is over, but the tension lingers, the weight of what just transpired pressing down on all of us.

The tension hung in the air, thick and heavy, as I threw my question into the group. “What was that?” My voice carried more bite than I intended, but I didn’t care. My eyes darted between each guardian, looking for someone to answer.

Yuna flinched at my tone, her wide eyes betraying her shock. Wakka looked puzzled, scratching his head as if trying to piece together my frustration, while Kimahri remained stoic, his gaze fixed on the last remnants of pyreflies dissolving into the air. Tidus, leaning heavily on his knees and trying to catch his breath, darted his gaze nervously between all of us, clearly unsure of what he had walked into. Only Lulu met my glare, her wet hair plastered to her face and her expression calm, but her crimson eyes carried a steely warning.

“We clearly had the advantage there,” I pressed when no one responded. “The aeon was still alive. We could have supported it, helped finish the fight quicker. Why didn’t we?”

Yuna opened her mouth, a weak explanation ready to spill out, but Lulu’s voice cut through, sharp and deliberate. “The summoning requires practice and experience,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Yuna wasn’t in any immediate danger, and if that had changed, we were close enough to intervene. The battle was an opportunity to test her strength and her bond with Valefor. It wasn’t just any fiend—it was a sinspawn. And she did well.”

Her words didn’t sit right with me. My gaze shifted to Yuna, silently asking her to confirm or deny it. She hesitated but finally nodded, speaking softly, “I have to train my aeons. They need to be strong if I want any chance of defeating Sin.”

“So… make them fight until they die?” I said bluntly, crossing my arms.

Yuna froze, her hands gripping her staff so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her eyes dropped to the ground, unable to meet mine. “Aeons can’t die,” Lulu interjected smoothly, trying to deflect my point. “They’re spirits, summoned by the fayth to aid the summoner. They return to the fayth after battle.”

“Yet, they obviously feel pain,” I countered, my voice hardening. I looked at each of them in turn. None of them could meet my eyes, except Tidus, who seemed more confused than anything. My frustration grew, but I let out a long breath and turned toward the temple stairs. “So they’re slaves, then?” I muttered darkly.

“W-what? No!” Yuna stammered, taking a step forward.

I turned sharply, catching her off guard. “Good,” I said firmly. “Then we’re on the same page.”

The words hung in the air as everyone fell silent. Yuna’s eyes were conflicted, tears threatening to well up. Her staff trembled in her hands as she whispered, “They’re not my slaves.”

“Last time I checked,” I continued, my tone softer but no less direct, “when I asked you about aeons, you told me they fight with us—not for us. What’s changed?”

Yuna’s lip quivered, and she looked ready to crumble under the weight of my question. Lulu stepped forward, ready to defend her, but Yuna stopped her with a quiet shake of her head. Her gaze dropped again, and for a moment, it seemed like she wouldn’t answer.

Then she raised her head, resolve blooming behind her tears. “He’s right,” she said quietly, but her voice grew stronger with each word. “I didn’t tell Valefor to protect me—she did it on her own. She was in pain… because of me.”

Her words hung heavy in the air as she continued, “When I was an apprentice, I read everything my father left behind. How to think, how to act… what a summoner should do.”

I stared hard, waiting for her to finish. “But they’re not my slaves,” Yuna said, her voice firm now. “I care about them. Valefor, and the others I’ll summon in the future… I know it’s hard to understand, but this is what we have to do.”

“Because of a bunch of books?” I asked, crossing my arms.

Yuna faltered, her resolve cracking under my words. “Who says you have to follow them?” I pressed. “You’re the summoner here.”

Tidus, having finally caught his breath, chimed in with surprising boldness, “Yeah! Who cares what a bunch of old guys did back then?”

Wakka tried to intervene, “But tradition—”

“Isn’t always a good thing,” I cut him off, my patience wearing thin.

Lulu’s gaze shifted to Yuna, studying her intently, and I followed suit. The young summoner was visibly battling with herself, her emotions flickering across her face like ripples in water.

Kimahri stepped forward silently, his large frame casting a shadow over Yuna. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his deep voice rumbling, “Yuna should trust herself. Yuna, not her father. Yuna is Yuna.”

The summoner jumped slightly at his touch but turned to look up at him, her wide eyes searching his steady expression. Slowly, his words seemed to sink in. She nodded faintly, her grip on her staff relaxing.

Satisfied, I sighed and turned back toward the temple stairs. As I started climbing, I heard footsteps behind me. Yuna appeared suddenly, on my right, her pace matching mine. Neither of us spoke, but the weight of the conversation lingered in the space between us.

Yuna’s soft “thank you” cut through the quiet as we walked side by side.

“For what?” I asked, my voice laced with exhaustion from the fight.

“For caring more than I did,” she said, her tone sincere.

“You know that’s not true,” I replied, shaking my head slightly.

“It is…” she countered, pausing for a moment. “I lost track of who I am because I was so focused on being like my father. I forgot to be like me.”

When I turned to her, there was a small but genuine smile on her face, her hands clasped behind her back as if she were holding onto something fragile.

Reaching over, I placed my right hand on her head, intending to give her a quick, reassuring pat. But somewhere between that intention and the actual motion, it became something else entirely. My hand ruffled her hair, fingers digging in to create absolute chaos. It had become something of a tradition between us over the past year—a simple, teasing act that always managed to lighten the mood.

Yuna, however, had grown far too accustomed to my antics. With a quick laugh, she ducked out of my reach, evading my grasp before I could do any real damage. “Not this time!” she called out with a laugh as she jogged ahead, her pace quickening to put some distance between us.

I shook my head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips as I followed at a more leisurely pace. From behind me, the sound of the Aurochs’ heavy footfalls and chatter filled the air, their energy as boundless as ever.

“Yeesh, it’s been one hairy fight after another!” Tidus groaned, his tone a mix of complaint and fatigue.

“Haha, sorry about that! Hope to break you in a little slower!” Wakka replied with a hearty laugh, clearly trying to ease the blonde’s frustration.

Tidus, however, wasn’t done. “Being a guardian is tiring!”

Wakka hummed thoughtfully before offering, “You handle yourself pretty well. You got talent.”

The blonde, clearly embarrassed by the unexpected praise, shrugged awkwardly, muttering something under his breath. His discomfort earned a knowing chuckle from Wakka.

Tidus, eager to shift the focus, asked, “So what are these sinspawn, anyway?”

Lulu, walking just ahead, glanced over her shoulder and answered in her usual calm, precise manner. “Fiends. They fall from Sin’s body and are left behind in its wake.”

“Leave ‘em alone long enough,” Wakka added, his tone more serious, “and Sin comes back for them. Ya gotta be quick.”

The weight of his words lingered for a moment before the group pressed on, the temple’s silhouette now looming closer.

Yuna, having reached the final set of stairs, stood waiting for us with her back to the temple. She glanced down at us with a smile and a wave.

As I moved to join her, Wakka’s voice cut through the stillness again. “So… uh, they got fiends in Zanarkand, too?”

The word caught me off guard. Zanarkand. The lost city.

Vague memories stirred in my mind—stories told around the fires back in Besaid. A legendary city, destroyed a thousand years ago in the Machina War. It was hard to imagine a place like that existing, let alone someone claiming to be from there.

I turned halfway back toward Wakka and Tidus, my curiosity piqued.

“Just a few. It’s a big deal when one shows up, though,” Tidus replied casually, taking a couple more steps before something seemed to click. He spun around, pointing an accusatory finger at Wakka. “Ah… Hey! Since when have you believed me about Zanarkand, anyway?”

Lulu and Kimahri continued up the stairs at their usual pace, but it was obvious the black mage was listening intently. Her steps, though steady, carried the weight of suppressed irritation, and it wasn’t long before that weight spilled over.

Wakka scratched the back of his head, his gaze fixed on the steps beneath him. “I been thinking, maybe people Sin gets to don’t die. Maybe Sin carries ‘em through time. Like a thousand years through time…” He trailed off, looking up at the sky as if searching for an answer hidden among the clouds. “Then, one day, maybe they just pop back, see?”

Somewhere along his rambling, Lulu had stopped moving. Her attention turned sharply to the orange-haired man, her expression unreadable—though the faint tension in her jaw was telling. It didn’t take much to figure out where Wakka’s thoughts were leading. I crossed my arms, bracing myself. Wakka was walking straight into dangerous territory, and he wasn’t going to walk back out unscathed.

Three… two…

“Amazing. Simply amazing,” Lulu snapped, rubbing her temples as though Wakka’s words had physically pained her. I winced at the sharpness of her voice. Her tone was a cold mix of disappointment and exasperation, a verbal frostbite aimed directly at Wakka. “You make up one theory after another, refusing to face the simple truth.”

Not even pausing for breath, she climbed the stairs to stand directly beside him, her crimson eyes boring into his. “Sin didn’t take Chappu anywhere, Wakka. Sin crushed him. Left him on the Djose shore.” The words hit with force, cutting through any delusion Wakka might have been clinging to.

Wakka stiffened but didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at her.

“And one more thing,” Lulu continued, her voice sharp enough to cleave the air. “No matter how much you want it, no one can take Chappu’s place. No one can replace Sir Jecht, and there’s no replacement for Lord Braska, either. It’s pointless to think about it—and sad.”

Yuna stood frozen, her hand hovering with uncertainty. It was clear she wanted to step in, to ease the tension, but she knew better. This wasn’t her battle to fight, and anything she said now might only make things worse.

Wakka let out a sigh of defeat and sank to the ground, sitting cross-legged on the stone steps. The cheerful mask he usually wore was gone, leaving a quiet, unguarded sadness in its place. Yuna finally moved, kneeling beside him and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He gave her a weak smile, a silent acknowledgment of her gesture. After murmuring an apology, Yuna turned and hurried after Lulu and Kimahri, leaving the rest of us behind.

Tidus sat down next to Wakka, his presence uncharacteristically subdued. I stayed where I was, arms crossed, gazing out over the forest that stretched far below. The view was breathtaking, but my focus lingered on the sheer drop beneath the stairs. A long way down.

Wakka broke the silence with a strained voice. “I… I could never be what Chappu was,” he admitted, his words heavy with a vulnerability that wasn’t easy for him to show. He paused, taking a slow, deliberate breath before continuing. “Well, stuff happens. Best not to worry!” The forced cheer in his tone was as transparent as glass.

I turned back just in time to see him rise to his feet, wearing a bright, hollow smile. Wordlessly, I stepped forward and gave him a small pat on the back, urging him to keep moving. He glanced at me, and though his smile didn’t reach his eyes, he nodded in gratitude.

We climbed the stairs together, our pace slow but steady. Tidus, for his part, took a different approach. “Hey, Wakka!” he called out, his voice lighter now, trying to shift the mood. “What’s your record for most goals in a game?”

The question caught Wakka off guard, but after a moment, he chuckled. “You’re really askin’? Alright, lemme tell ya about the time we played the Luca Goers and—”

It worked. The weight on Wakka's shoulders seemed to ease as he dove into a story about blitzball, the blonde encouraging him with questions and jabs. Watching the two of them, I found myself quietly relieved. Tidus might not have much tact, but the kid had heart. That much was clear.

—

The temple was bustling with life, the entrance swarming with villagers and travelers alike. Their hushed whispers filled the air, echoing softly against the stone walls. As we approached, their conversations ceased, eyes turning toward us. It wasn’t just any summoner they saw—it was Yuna, the daughter of Lord Braska.

Tidus, ever the social butterfly, wasted no time in breaking away from the group. He weaved through the crowd, already striking up conversations with strangers. Meanwhile, Lulu stood close to Yuna, straightening her hair and brushing off invisible dust from her robes. Whatever words passed between them were low and private, but Lulu’s calm, meticulous movements were a clear attempt to make Yuna as presentable as possible.

Wakka stood a little apart, gazing up at the towering structure of the temple with something akin to reverence. Kimahri kept watch over the crowd, his sharp eyes scanning for any potential threats.

Tidus returned just as quickly as he left, his usual energy dampened slightly. “Sounds like there’s another blitzball team inside…” he muttered, his eyes flickering toward Wakka for a reaction. But the orange-haired guardian hardly seemed to hear him, too lost in his admiration of the temple.

“Ready?” Tidus asked, his voice now directed at Yuna.

“Yes,” she replied with a soft smile.

As we stepped closer to the entrance, the crowd began to part like waves breaking against a rock. They lowered their heads respectfully, some performing the prayer of Yevon. Yuna responded in kind, bowing deeply, her hands clasped in front of her in perfect form. She exuded grace, but I could see the subtle tension in her shoulders. She bore the weight of their expectations silently, as always.

Before we could enter, three men in garish purple swimwear strutted out of the temple doors, their swagger impossible to ignore. Their eyes immediately locked onto Wakka, ignoring Yuna entirely.

“Wakka,” I muttered under my breath. “Friends of yours?”

“Not really…” he grumbled, his cheerful demeanor shifting as the trio approached.

“You here to pray for victory, too?” Wakka asked, his tone light but with an edge.

The obnoxious redhead at the front of the group smirked. “Us? Pray? Who needs to pray? The Luca Goers always win!” His voice was loud, grating, and every word made me want to roll my eyes harder than I already was.

“Oh yeah? Then why are you here?” Wakka fired back, clearly irritated but trying to keep it together.

“We were praying for some competition this year!” one of the Goers piped up, his grin infuriatingly smug.

I couldn’t help myself. “So… did you pray or not?” I asked, my voice dripping with mock innocence.

The redhead’s face flushed crimson, his cocky grin faltering as he whipped around to glare at his teammate. From behind me, Lulu let out a soft, condescending laugh that only seemed to aggravate him further.

Recovering quickly, the redhead redirected his energy back to Wakka. “What’s your goal this time, huh? You gonna ‘do your best’ again?” he sneered. “Hah! Too bad your best isn’t good enough. Why even bother showing up?”

“This time, we play to win!” Tidus blurted out, his fists clenched and his voice full of determination. Wakka turned toward the blonde, a mix of surprise and approval flashing across his face.

The redhead waved off Tidus’s outburst with an exaggerated yawn. “Ooh, play away! Just remember, even kids can play, boys.” With that parting jab, the Goers strutted away, their snide laughter trailing behind them.

“See you in the finals!” Wakka called after them, his voice bright despite the tension still lingering in the air.

Tidus stood rooted in place, glaring at their retreating backs. Yuna, ever observant, approached him cautiously.

“Putting people down… they’re as bad as my old man,” Tidus muttered, his voice low but filled with venom.

“But Sir Jecht was a kind and gentle man!” Yuna replied earnestly, her tone almost pleading.

I blinked. Sir Jecht? As in High Summoner Braska’s guardian?

“Well, not my Jecht,” Tidus grumbled, his bitterness palpable. Yuna faltered, her words trailing off as she realized there was nothing she could say to ease his frustration. Tidus shook his head and sighed, forcing himself to snap out of it. “Let’s go,” he said, dragging Yuna with him into the temple.

I lingered for a moment, processing the exchange. High Summoner Braska, Yuna’s father, had traveled with two guardians: Sir Jecht and Sir Auron. According to Yuna, Sir Jecht claimed to be from Zanarkand, the lost city. Most people had dismissed it as a joke or an attempt to keep his past private, but Yuna had always insisted, “Sir Jecht wouldn’t lie.”

And then there was Sir Auron—a warrior monk who had been groomed for a high-ranking position in the clergy, only to fall from grace when he refused to marry the daughter of a Yevon priest. The man had chosen integrity over status, a decision that had cost him everything. The story was infamous in Besaid, and every time I thought about it, I couldn’t help but laugh. Auron sounded like my kind of guy.

With a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips, I followed the group into the temple.

The temple’s grand hall stretched before us, its architecture mirroring the one we’d seen in Besaid. A series of torches flickered, their warm light casting shadows over the statues of past summoners lining the walls. Wakka immediately moved to one of the statues, kneeling reverently before it. He performed the Yevonite bow before his hands clasped in prayer.

I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Lulu, who merely shrugged in response. Tidus hesitated for a moment, his usual energy replaced by something quieter, before walking over to join Wakka. He knelt awkwardly, mimicking the guardian’s posture but with far less conviction.

Watching him, I found my thoughts wandering. Both Tidus and his father, Sir Jecht, claimed to hail from Zanarkand, a city lost to time. Tidus didn’t strike me as a liar—clueless, maybe, but not dishonest. But if what they said was true, could Sin really be responsible for dragging people not just across worlds but through time itself? If so, how did that fit with the rift that brought me here? Questions swirled in my mind, but answers remained frustratingly elusive.

I was pulled from my thoughts by the sound of footsteps echoing down the corridor leading to the cloister of trials. Two figures emerged: a woman dressed in ornate, almost ceremonial attire, revealing a ridiculous amount of skin, and a towering man who looked more like a bodyguard than a companion. The woman’s presence commanded attention, her piercing gaze locking onto Yuna immediately.

“A summoner, are you?” Her voice carried an edge, sharp and assessing.

Yuna turned to face her, her composure unwavering despite the woman’s obvious disdain.

The woman descended the stairs with a haughty air, her posture rigid. As she approached, she turned her nose up slightly, a deliberate act of condescension. Yuna, undeterred, stepped forward to meet her halfway.

“My name is Yuna, from the Isle of Besaid,” she introduced herself with a respectful bow.

“Donna,” the woman replied curtly, her eyes sweeping over Yuna from head to toe with thinly veiled judgment. “So, you’re High Summoner Braska’s daughter. Quite a name to live up to…” Her lips curled into a mocking smile as she took in our group. “And all these people are your guardians? My, what a rabble.” She gestured vaguely in our direction before adding, “As I recall, Lord Braska had only two guardians. Quality over quantity, my dear. Whatever were you thinking? I have need of only one guardian, right, Barthello?”

The hulking man behind her grunted in agreement, his expression unreadable.

My temper flared, and I opened my mouth to retort, but Kimahri’s firm hand on my shoulder stopped me. I glanced at him, surprised, but his gaze remained fixed on Yuna. He trusted her to handle this, and reluctantly, I did the same.

“I only have as many guardians as there are people I can trust,” Yuna said firmly, her voice steady. “I trust them all with my life. To have so many guardians is a joy and an honor. Even more so than being my father’s daughter. Of course,” she added with a polite smile, “I would never think of questioning your ways, either. So, Lady Donna, I ask of you this: please leave us in peace.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Donna’s shoulders tensed visibly as murmurs began to rise from the onlookers. The crowd had taken notice, their gazes shifting between the two summoners. Donna’s face flushed, and she shot Yuna a glare before spinning on her heel.

“You do whatever you want,” she snapped. “Barthello, we’re leaving.”

Her bodyguard lingered for a moment, offering Yuna an almost apologetic glance before following Donna out of the temple. The sound of her clacking heels echoed through the hall until it faded entirely.

Approaching Yuna, I couldn’t help but grin. Resting a hand on the small of her back, I leaned in slightly. “Well said, Lady Yuna,” I teased, my tone playful.

Yuna let out a small laugh, the tension leaving her shoulders. “Thank you,” she replied softly, her smile warm before giggling, “It’s weird when you say it.” I barked out a laugh in response.

Wakka rose from his prayers, stretching his arms as he rejoined us. Together, we ascended the stairs leading to the inner sanctum. The corridor was long and dimly lit, the flickering torches casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. At the end of the hall, a circular stone platform lay in wait, surrounded by four more torches.

Wakka stepped onto the platform first, turning to face us. “The fayth is below. Let’s do it!”

“The ‘fayth?’” Tidus asked, his confusion evident.

“But first, the cloister of trials,” Lulu said, completely ignoring him. “Kimahri? Wakka? Derek? Ready?”

We exchanged nods, and Yuna offered a quiet word of encouragement. “Strength, everyone.”

As we gathered on the platform, Tidus attempted to join us. Before he could step fully onto the stone, Kimahri shoved him back with a single firm hand.

“Wha—hey, what gives?” Tidus protested, stumbling backward.

“You’re not a guardian yet,” Lulu stated matter-of-factly.

Yuna, ever gentle, tried to soften the blow. “Uhm, we’ll be back as soon as we can, okay?”

I smirked, winking at the frustrated blonde. “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

Tidus threw his hands up dramatically as we descended, his voice fading as he shouted after us. “Yeah, soon. Like ‘tomorrow’ soon, I bet!”

Reaching the bottom of the temple, the faint echoes of the stone platform sliding back into place faded into the distance. Before us stretched a sturdy stone bridge, leading to a large sealed door—the entrance to the cloister of trials. The air felt heavier here with an almost tangible pressure.

Yuna took the lead, crossing the bridge with careful steps. At the door, she paused, her hand resting on its cold surface. She turned back to us, her expression unsure. “Maybe we should…”

Lulu immediately released a sigh that screamed here we go again. Before Yuna could finish her suggestion, I cut in, “I’ll keep him company.”

Wakka and Lulu turned to me in surprise, their brows raised in question. Kimahri, however, simply glanced back and gave a curt nod to say he was on board.

Yuna looked torn but eventually seemed to relax, understanding she wasn’t going to win this argument. “Thank you,” she said softly.

With a casual wave of my hand, I grinned, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your boyfriend safe.” My voice echoed loudly enough to fill the corridor.

Behind me, I could hear the sputtering, flustered noises coming from Yuna as she tried—and failed—to form a coherent response. My grin widened as I made my way back across the bridge, the sound of stone grinding against stone signaling the team had entered the trials.

Halfway across, I stopped and turned my gaze toward the platform that had brought us down here. My brow furrowed as I noticed it wasn’t there.

Where is it?

The platform should have remained below once we’d descended, signaling that the trials were occupied. It was basic temple etiquette. My first thought was the blonde.

Seriously, he called it back up?

I waited for a moment, crossing my arms as I scanned the area. The faint sound of stone grating against stone finally caught my attention from higher up above. The platform was descending again. Placing my hands on my hips, I watched as the lift lowered—and sure enough, there he was, peeking over the edge with a sheepish expression.

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

The platform touched down, and Tidus stepped off, his shoulders bunched up like a guilty child caught sneaking a cookie. His expression made it clear he already knew how bad this looked.

Raising an eyebrow, I waited silently for him to explain.

“Donna and the big guy came back…” he muttered, scratching the back of his head.

My mood soured instantly. Rubbing my temples, I groaned, “This is going to look bad on Yuna’s end, you know that, right?”

He nodded, clearly aware but too embarrassed to respond further.

“Alright, come on, let’s get you back up—” I stopped mid-sentence as the platform suddenly began to rise again, leaving us stranded below. “…Pricks…” I muttered under my breath.

“…Sooo… no way to go but in, huh?” Tidus offered, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. He mimed zipping his mouth shut, but I could see the mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Alright,” I sighed, stalking past him. “But you’re explaining this to Lulu.”

We walked across the bridge in silence at first, but after a while, Tidus spoke up. “You agreed pretty fast to this. What makes this trial so dangerous?”

“The trial itself isn’t dangerous,” I explained, my voice echoing slightly against the stone walls. “It’s basically just a giant puzzle. The real danger lies in whether or not you can solve it.”

As we approached the massive stone doors, I stopped and looked over my shoulder. “You ready?”

Tidus nodded, though it was more hesitant than confident. “And if we can’t solve it?”

“Then we’re locked in here,” I said matter-of-factly, stepping forward as the doors groaned shut behind us.

“W-wait, what?” Tidus spun around, his hands flying to the stone doors. He pushed, pulled, and even tried prying them open, but the massive slabs didn’t budge. After a few more futile attempts, he turned back to me with wide, panicked eyes.

I let out a dramatic sigh with a roll of my eyes. “Didn’t you already go through one of these? Back in Besaid?”

“Yeah, but…” Tidus trailed off, clearly flustered. “Nobody said anything about getting locked in!” The blonde looked around and panicked before snapping his fingers. “Wait—Yuna and the others! They’re already inside, right? We’ll just catch them on the way back!” Tidus steps far too close, invading my personal space.

I instinctively lean back with a grunt, my face scrunching. “An alternate and straightforward path opens up for the summoner after they acquire the aeon,” I explain, trying to keep my patience. “They won’t come back through this passage.”

Tidus’s shoulders sag dramatically, the defeat plain on his face. Before he can open his mouth to complain, I cut him off with a sigh, turning my attention to the entrance of the cloister. “Look, just relax. We need to focus if we’re going to get to the center.”

The blonde shakes himself —physically shaking off the tension— and nods. His movements are stiff and jittery, telling me he’s not as calm as he’s trying to appear. I ignore it and move forward, stepping onto a slightly elevated area.

The space is simple: a locked door stands ahead, its stone surface unyielding. A single glowing sphere rests on a pedestal nearby, casting an orange light that dances across the walls. Tidus moves to inspect the door, trying to push it open with brute force—and predictably failing.

The sphere’s glow reflects in my eyes as I approach the pedestal. The air around it is warm, almost soothing. Tidus turns back to me, his curiosity piqued. “Hey… I’ve seen something like that before. On the island.”

Nodding, I carefully remove the sphere. It’s warm to the touch, the energy within it thrumming faintly against my palm. Without a word, I handed it to him. He takes it cautiously, like he’s afraid it might explode.

“I’m trusting you know where to put it?”

Tidus grins. “Hah, this doesn’t seem too bad.”

He moves to insert the sphere into the socket on the door. As soon as it clicks into place, a line of molten energy flows down the wall, tracing intricate patterns before pooling at the base. The stone door is suddenly engulfed in flames, glowing with an intense heat as it disintegrates into ash.

The flames continue to linger even after the door is gone, flickering stubbornly.

I clear my throat pointedly. Tidus gets the hint and pulls the sphere back out, the fire disappearing instantly.

“Oops…” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly, avoiding my gaze.

“Come on, we’re not done yet.”

“That was pretty easy,” he says confidently as he follows me into the next room. “This is going to be a piece of cake!”

The next room isn’t so forgiving. It’s similar in design, but now two empty sockets stand on perpendicular walls—one on the right and another straight ahead. A pedestal in the center houses a glyph sphere, its soft glow a stark contrast to the fiery energy of the Kilika sphere.

Without hesitation, I grab the glyph sphere, while Tidus begins tossing the Kilika sphere between his hands like a ball. I can feel my eyebrow twitch in irritation.

“So… how long have you known them?” Tidus asks, his tone casual but his curiosity evident.

Glancing over my shoulder, I catch sight of the sphere as he continues to juggle it. “Yuna and the others? About a year… Are you trying to break that?”

Thankfully, he stops tossing it around, but he doesn’t stop asking questions. “Only a year? How did you join them?”

I hesitate briefly before answering, focusing on the sphere in my hands. “A fiend showed up and separated me from my family. A rift tore open in the middle of the chase, and I was sucked in…”

Tidus halts, his expression growing uncharacteristically quiet.

“Bring that here,” I say, waving him over.

“Uh… okay.” He moves to insert the Kilika sphere into the right socket. As soon as he does, a glyph burns into the wall, its glowing lines pulsating faintly. “Did you… come from Zanarkand too?”

I freeze momentarily, hearing the faint thread of hope in his voice. Turning back, I lock eyes with him and slowly shake my head. “It seems we come from two different worlds. Mine doesn’t have monsters or magic.”

He visibly deflates, shoulders drooping, but it doesn’t last long. Within seconds, he perks up again, forcing a smile. “No magic? Could’ve had me fooled—you’re really good at it.”

I don’t reply immediately, running my fingers along the glowing glyph on the wall. The contact triggers a mechanism, and the stone wall slides upward with a grating rumble, revealing the path forward.

“What’s your story?” I ask, breaking the silence. “How did Wakka find you?”

Tidus shifts his weight awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s, uh… kind of a long story.”

“We’ve got time,” I say dryly, gesturing towards the space. I step into the next room. “Unless you plan on juggling more spheres.”

The blonde walks beside me, large flames separating us from the next door. Across the room, a glowing Kilika sphere rests in another wall socket.

“Same as you, fiends came out of nowhere in the middle of a blitzball tournament and started terrorizing everyone. That’s when this guy named Auron showed up,” Tidus begins, his words tumbling out in a rush. “He took care of me while I was young, after my dad left, so he was sorta like my guardian for a few years. Anyway, he just shows up out of nowhere, hands me a blade, and we fight off some fiends. Then the bridge we’re on starts to collapse, and—get this—Auron just picks me up and throws me at this monster, which sucks me up and spits me out here in Spira.”

I freeze in the middle of the corridor, half-turning to stare at him.

Auron?

“Auron,” I repeat, “as in Sir Auron? One of High Summoner Braska’s guardians?”

“Yeah, no. There’s no way that could be my Auron,” Tidus replies with a dismissive wave. “He’s just a boring old dude.”

I narrow my eyes at him, scrutinizing every inch of his face for a sign he’s joking. He grows visibly uncomfortable under the weight of my gaze.

“You realize there’s also a Sir Jecht, right?” I press.

“That’s what Yuna said, but—”

“You happen to have a dad named Jecht, who also claimed to come from Zanarkand. Now you’re telling me you also know an Auron? Is that supposed to be a coincidence?” I arch a brow. “You don’t want to believe it, but you can’t ignore how everything lines up.”

Tidus’s mouth opens, then shuts. His shoulders sag under the weight of what I just said.

Pushing forward, I approach the glowing wall socket, plucking the Kilika sphere free and replacing it with the glyph sphere. The wall shifts and grinds upward, revealing another room. The lava-like lines fueling the flames die out, extinguishing the barrier. I glance at Tidus, who’s staring off into the middle distance, lost in thought.

“If that’s true about my dad… that would be…” His voice trails off, thick with unspoken emotion.

I decided to nudge him further. “What about Auron? Think he made it through?”

The boy’s gaze drops. “No clue. I woke up in the water alone.”

“Well, I guess you’re just going to have to find him,” I say lightly. “He’s the only one with answers at this point.”

Tidus perks up slightly, nodding at my words. “…Maybe Yuna and the others know where Auron is.”

I raise my brows. “Good place to start. But let’s finish this trial before we get ahead of ourselves.”

Stepping into the hidden room, I remove a purple sphere from the wall and inspect it. It feels ordinary—other than its unusual color. Shrugging, I pass it over to Tidus.

“You see something like this before?”

“Back in Besaid,” he says, his voice laced with excitement. “It was hidden behind a wall. A sphere like this broke a different wall, and there was a chest inside…” He trails off, glancing around the room eagerly.

As if on cue, the boy starts hunting for walls to test his theory, Kilika and purple spheres in hand. Meanwhile, I move toward the now-extinguished flames, noting the faint outline of a sigil etched into the floor. Crouching, I press my hand against the symbol. It vibrates faintly beneath my touch.

The sound of something shifting in the other room reaches my ears, followed by Tidus’s startled sputter.

“I think I did something!” he shouts, rushing into the room. His triumph fades when he notices the pedestal already repositioned near me, sporting a Kilika sphere.

Chuckling, I stand, brushing my hands off. “Guess you didn’t do anything after all.”

The blonde pouts but quickly refocuses, noticing the sigil. His grin returns, and he pushes the pedestal over it. The moment it clicks into place, the ground ignites, sinking the pedestal into the floor. The entire ledge descends, revealing a hidden wall. As it crumbles, a small chest becomes visible.

Tidus retrieves the treasure—a red armlet—and inspects it. Holding it up, he looks at me for insight.

I shrug. “No idea. Looks important, though.”

We move on to the next door, which is sealed by flames. Tidus’s newfound enthusiasm drives him forward as I retrieve the Kilika sphere to extinguish the fire. Together, we enter a dark corridor, the flames in the sphere burning away the shadows as we ascend the stairs.

The silence is heavy, broken only by the sound of our footsteps. I can feel Tidus’s eyes boring into the back of my head.

“What is it?” I ask without turning around.

“Wh-what?” he stammers.

“You’re staring. Just say what’s on your mind.”

He hesitates, his voice quiet when he finally speaks. “…Do you think we’ll ever get to go home?”

I stop mid-step, his words hanging in the air.

“I mean,” he continues, “you’ve been here for a whole year. That’s a long time to be away from… anything really.”

Tidus, lost in his own thoughts, nearly collides with me before catching himself. His wide, startled eyes meet mine as I half-turn to face him.

“I don’t know, kid,” I say honestly, the weight of the uncertainty pressing on my chest. “I made a promise to help Yuna with her pilgrimage—partly because it’s the right thing to do, and partly because I’m hoping to find a way back home along the way. But the truth is, I don’t even know if Sin is the reason I’m here in the first place. For all I know, this could just be some cruel twist of fate.”

I take a step down, closing the gap between us. Tidus stiffens slightly as I place a hand on his shoulder, grounding him.

“But sitting around twiddling my thumbs won’t get me any closer to the answers I need,” I add, locking eyes with him. “So don’t think like that, alright? You’re here, you’re alive, and you’re in with a good crowd. That’s something to be thankful for.”

I flash him a grin, one meant to reassure. The tension in his shoulders eases, and a small, sheepish smile tugs at his lips. He shakes his head, glancing to the side as if embarrassed by his earlier doubts.

“… beats being alone, that’s for sure.”

Satisfied, I nod and continue up the passage, the flames of the Kilika sphere flickering softly against the stone walls.

Yeah… he’s going to be just fine.

Chapter Text

A deep, resonant voice sings through the stone walls as we near the end of the passage. At the top of the stairwell, a heavy stone door blocks our path forward, adorned with two sockets—the obvious homes for the spheres in our hands. With a glance back, I nod to Tidus, and together we place the spheres. The ancient mechanisms groan to life, stone grinding against stone as the door wings open slowly, revealing the chamber ahead. The hymn of the fayth echoes out, filling the air with an almost otherworldly serenity.

Inside, the scene is tense. Wakka slaps a hand over his forehead in exasperation the moment he spots us. “Woah, woah, woah!” His voice cuts through the hymn.

Lulu, standing near the center of the chamber, turns sharply toward the commotion. Her eyes flick to me, sharp and questioning. Meanwhile, Kimahri remains stoic by the imposing metal shield-like door that undoubtedly leads to the chamber of the fayth. His unwavering presence somehow amplifies the weight of the room.

Tidus stumbles in behind me, hands raised halfway in surrender. “Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he groans. “But it wasn’t my fault! It was Donna and the big muscle-head guy!”

Lulu clicks her tongue in irritation. “Yuna will be the one to suffer the consequences.”

“What consequences?” Tidus asks, wincing as if bracing for impact.

“She could be excommunicated,” Wakka grumbles, his voice heavy with concern.

The weight of those words sinks into the room. Tidus’s usual bravado falters as he shifts uncomfortably. Wakka scratches at his head in frustration, and Lulu, clearly holding back harsher words, lets out an audible sigh before retreating to a far corner of the chamber. The two of them settle on opposite sides, giving Tidus a wide berth.

Tidus, eager to avoid another scolding from Lulu, awkwardly sidles up beside Wakka. Meanwhile, I glance upward, drawn to the haunting melody of the hymn as it echoes through the stone chamber. My eyes drift closed without realizing, and for a fleeting moment, the song eases the tension that lingers in the air.

A soft prickle at the back of my neck snaps me back to the present. Opening my eyes, I find Lulu watching me quietly. Her expression is unreadable but pointed. Pushing off the wall, I move toward her.

“When you said you’d keep him company,” she begins, her voice low but sharp, “I didn’t think you meant this.”

Letting out a puff of air, I shrug. “You’re right. I didn’t.”

Her gaze narrows. “Then why didn’t you just bring him back up to the temple?”

I tilt my head slightly, considering my words. “If he’s going to be a guardian, what better way to teach him than with some hands-on experience?” I pause, my eyes flicking toward Tidus, who’s already beginning to pace. “He doesn’t have a year to learn the basics.”

Lulu hums in thought, her sharp gaze softening just slightly. “Was that all?”

A small, self-deprecating smile tugs at my lips. “Won’t deny it… I also wanted to know more about where he came from, without too many prying eyes or ears.”

Her head tilts slightly as she studies me. “And?”

I glance back at the blonde, “the boy is just as lost as I am,” I admit, leaning back against the cool stone wall. “He’s just better at pretending he’s not.”

For a few moments, Lulu says nothing, simply regarding me with that sharp, knowing gaze of hers. Then, without a word, she turns back toward Tidus and Wakka.

The blonde is now pacing faster, the hymn seeming to agitate him more with each passing moment. Wakka notices and finally speaks up, his voice steady and reassuring. “Just wait.”

With a groan, Tidus halts his pacing and shifts his focus toward the chamber of the fayth. “So, what’s in there anyway?”

“The fayth, remember?” Wakka replies, his brows furrowed in mild disbelief.

“Oh yeah, that thing. Right.” Tidus scratches the back of his head, clearly having no clue.

From her corner, Lulu pinches the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly. “The fayth are people who gave their lives to battle Sin,” she explains, her tone clipped. Pushing herself off the wall, she steps toward the pair, her heels clicking against the stone floor. “Yevon took their souls—willingly offered from their still-living bodies.”

“Huh?” Tidus turns to her, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

Lulu’s gaze sharpens as she continues. “Now, they live forever, trapped in statues. When a summoner beckons, the souls of the fayth emerge once again. That’s what we call an Aeon.” Her voice is firm, leaving no room for debate or misunderstanding.

Tidus looks back toward the chamber, his expression shifting as he takes in the weight of her words. “All that… in this room?” he murmurs, almost to himself. Turning toward Wakka, he asks, “So… what’s Yuna doing in there?”

“She prays,” Wakka says softly, his tone uncharacteristically reverent. “She prays with all her heart for a way to defeat Sin.”

Tidus frowns, his unease clear. “…So… can we go in—?”

Lulu’s sharp glare stops him in his tracks. “The chamber beyond is a sacred place. Only summoners may enter,” she snaps.

“What, even guardians can’t go?” the blonde presses, leaning back slightly as if preparing to dodge another scolding.

“It’s taboo!” Wakka cuts in, his voice rising slightly, a hint of tension creeping into his usually calm tone.

“Oh.” Tidus deflates under their collective intensity, his shoulders slumping. He throws a glance in my direction, clearly hoping for some reprieve. I shrug in response, and he lets out a groan before dragging himself over to sit by my left leg.

Sparing him a side glance, I quip, “Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t just try barging in there instead of asking.”

“I mean, I would,” he mutters, pouting. “But Kimahri’s standing right there. He’d probably just kick me.”

From across the room, Kimahri huffs audibly and crosses his arms, his eyes never leaving the chamber door.

Smiling, I chuckle. “Look at that—you’re learning.”

“Hey!” Tidus protests, throwing a glare my way.

Before he can try anything, I shift forward a step. Predictably, he goes to shove at my leg, only to lose his balance and topple over onto the ground. “Tsk… noisy,” I mutter, my grin widening as he scrambles upright.

The blonde grumbles under his breath, but his antics seem to have done the impossible—lightening the mood in the room. Lulu’s furrowed brows relax, and Wakka allows the faintest ghost of a smile to appear. Even Kimahri’s shoulders seem less rigid, though his posture remains vigilant.

An easy silence falls over us as we settle into waiting. The hymn continues to echo, its melody weaving through the chamber like a constant reminder of the sacredness of the space. The flames flicker along the walls, their shadows dancing and shifting in rhythmic patterns. Hours pass—or what feels like hours—marked only by the steady repetition of the hymn and the occasional shuffle of feet.

The shield-like door suddenly retracts, the transparent wings sliding aside to grant passage to Yuna. She stumbles out slowly, her movements unsteady and her breaths shallow. Kimahri is by her side in an instant, ever the vigilant guardian, guiding her to kneel on the stone floor as her legs begin to falter. Sweat glistens on her face, a single bead trailing from her cheek to her chin, evidence of the toll the prayer has taken. From where I stand, I watch her carefully, concern tightening in my chest.

A light tap on my back pulls my attention. I glance over to see Tidus, his expression nervous, his brows drawn together as if bracing himself. He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “That song… my dad used to sing it. Before he disappeared.”

Before Spira?

I study the boy, my gaze softening slightly. There’s a vulnerability in his tone that’s hard to ignore. I nod in acknowledgment, choosing not to press further. The boy exhales quietly, sagging as though relieved to have shared even that much. Despite the grief lingering in his eyes, there’s a faint glimmer of gratitude.

—

The sun greets us with its warm embrace as we step out of the temple, leaving its heavy shadows behind. Yuna, ever mindful of the people awaiting her, pushes herself to recover swiftly. She smooths out her robes and adjusts her posture, masking the exhaustion that still clings to her like a shadow. Tidus remains uncharacteristically quiet, his thoughts clearly elsewhere and his steps drag along.

As we approach the crowd gathered outside, Yuna is immediately engulfed in their warmth. Elders bow their heads in prayer while children rush forward, their eager voices calling out to the summoner. The energy around her is infectious, a blend of admiration and hope, and Yuna meets it all with her usual grace, offering kind words and gentle smiles.

Off to the side, Tidus stands apart, his gaze distant as if lost in a world only he can see. My eyes linger on him for a moment, softening with understanding.

He’s thinking of home. A feeling I’m all too familiar with.

The crowd disperses as quickly as it formed, people returning to their tasks with renewed energy. After a few more moments to gather ourselves, we regroup to leave the temple grounds. Wakka, Lulu, Kimahri, and I take the lead, the path ahead stretching out like a promise of more trials to come. Yuna lingers behind, turning back one last time to the temple and its people. She performs a quiet prayer, the movement graceful and familiar, and whispers a soft goodbye, her words meant more for herself than anyone else.

Trailing behind all of us, Tidus walks sluggishly, his shoulders slumped, his feet barely lifting off the ground. Noticing his mood, Yuna slows her pace to walk beside him. Her voice is soft, curious, “What’s wrong?”

“I… I don’t know,” the boy mumbles, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes downcast.

“What do you want to do?” Yuna asks gently, tilting her head.

He hesitates, then mutters, “…to scream real loud.”

Yuna giggles, her laughter light and genuine. Her amusement draws my attention, and I call back to them, “You two better keep up, or we’re going to leave you behind.”

That’s when Tidus does it. Without warning, he throws his head back and lets out a loud, guttural scream that echoes through the area.

Kimahri spins around instantly, his body tense and ready for battle. Wakka jumps nearly a foot in the air, his eyes wide in shock. Lulu glances over her shoulder, her brows arched high in disbelief. As for me, I stop in my tracks, my own brows lifting in surprise before a laugh bursts out of me, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all.

Yuna, startled at first, can’t help but smile. There’s something freeing about the boy’s outburst, a raw honesty in his voice that’s hard to criticize. Tidus blushes faintly under everyone’s gaze, but it’s clear he doesn’t regret a thing.

“Better?” Yuna asks, her voice tinged with amusement.

“Yep!” Tidus replies, his tone bright and confident as he marches ahead, taking the lead for the first time. His earlier gloom seems to have evaporated entirely.

Yuna giggles again, her laughter infectious as she picks up her pace to join him. The rest of us follow behind, the tension from the temple finally giving way to a lighter atmosphere. For now, at least, the road ahead feels a little less daunting.

—

The journey back to Kilika Port was uneventful. A few fiends crossed our path, but they were quickly dealt with. When we arrived, the signs of progress were clear—the survivors had been working tirelessly to rebuild. The skeletons of new huts rose from the ground, while the debris that once cluttered the port had been mostly cleared away. Despite the immense loss, life was slowly finding its way back into the village.

“We need to restock on a few items,” Yuna announced, her tone light but purposeful. “I’ll go with Lulu.”

“Let’s meet back at the ship once we’re all ready!” Wakka called out, waving as he and the Aurochs headed off to handle their own errands.

Kimahri, as usual, didn’t spare a word. He simply turned and made his way toward the boat, clearly uninterested in anything else. Tidus, on the other hand, drifted toward a group of villagers, his curiosity leading him into another conversation.

I wandered toward the edge of one of the docks, finding a quiet moment amidst the activity. Sitting down, I swung my legs over the edge and looked out across the horizon. The sun was dipping lower, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and gold. The sea sparkled in the fading light, the waves gentle against the wooden posts below.

We won’t be getting much sunlight during the ride.

The salty breeze carried the sounds of light hammering, occasional chatter, and even the laughter of children. It was a stark contrast to the devastation and grief that had filled the air just the day before. Progress, slow but steady.

A sudden crash broke through the peaceful atmosphere, the sound loud enough to shake the dock beneath me. I whipped my head around just in time to see a section of a crumbling house collapse into the water. Standing nearby, looking sheepish, was none other than Tidus. I groaned inwardly as I stood, but before I could fully process the scene, the faint sound of a child crying reached my ears.

As I approached, I saw the blonde cradling a small, tear-streaked boy in his arms. By the time I closed the distance, Tidus had already set the child down and was crouched, speaking to him in a calming voice.

“Thanks, mister!” the child sniffled before running off.

“You need to be more careful,” Tidus muttered, his tone scolding but soft.

Tidus startles at my approach before scratching his head sheepishly. He offers a weak explanation, “uh… it was coming down anyway?”

“Was that kid in the house?” I asked, ignoring his attempt to deflect with humor.

Tidus glanced in the direction the child had run. “Yeah… he was just sitting there crying. I think he’s alone.”

“Hm… let’s make sure somebody knows.” Without waiting for a reply, I turned toward the inn. Behind me, I heard the shuffle of footsteps as Tidus hurried to catch up.

Parting the fabric that served as the inn’s entrance, we stepped inside just as Yuna was thanking the innkeeper, a small bag of supplies in her hand. Lulu turned to us, her sharp eyes immediately narrowing on Tidus.

“I heard that crash. What did you do?” she asked, her tone edged with accusation.

Tidus raised his hands in mock surrender, but I cut in before he could speak. “Actually, that’s why we’re here.” I turned to the innkeeper. “There was a child sitting alone in a broken house at the end of the dock. He managed to get the kid out before the house collapsed.” I jerked a thumb toward Tidus for emphasis.

The innkeeper’s expression softened, and she offered her thanks. “Thank you for that. The boy’s grandparents survived Sin’s attack, but his parents…” Her voice trailed off, the weight of her words settling heavily in the room.

Tidus nodded, his expression somber. “Yeah… uh, no problem. I just… I wanted to make sure someone was looking out for him.”

The innkeeper reassured us that the child’s grandparents were already taking care of him. While it wasn’t the answer either of us wanted to hear, it was better than nothing.

I rested my hands on my hips and turned to the two women. “You guys finished?”

“Yes!” Yuna raised her bag with a bright smile, her energy an odd contrast to the mood. Lulu, however, was quietly observing Tidus, her sharp gaze seemingly analyzing the boy in a way only she could.

“Well, if we’ve got nothing else to do, let’s head out,” I said, breaking the silence.

After thanking the innkeeper again, we made our way back toward the dock. Wakka and Kimahri were already there, waiting by the ramp with their usual presence.

“Off to Luca at last!” Wakka exclaimed, his enthusiasm contagious. “The matches start as soon as we get there, so rest up on the way, ya?”

Looking out toward the sea, I couldn’t help but wonder what awaited us in Luca—and beyond. For now, though, the only thing left to do was step aboard and continue forward.

–

The sea is calm, reflecting the moonlight like shards of silver glass scattered across the water. Night falls easily, bringing with it a quiet tranquility that blankets the ship. I lean lazily over the railing of the upper deck, my eyes fixed on the stars. The gentle swaying of the vessel and the faint murmur of voices from below add to the stillness. Most passengers have already gone to sleep, but the occasional movement or faint laughter reminds me we’re not completely alone.

From below, I catch the sound of Wakka’s distinct phrasing, his voice carrying just enough for me to make out the tone but not the words. Moments later, footsteps echo on the stairs. Turning my head, I spot Wakka ascending, his features startle upon seeing me and freezes halfway. A second voice—calm, measured, and unmistakably Lulu’s—calls out behind him, asking what’s taking so long.

“Just me!” I call out, my lazy grin in place. “Did you guys need privacy?”

He waves a hand dismissively as Lulu steps into view, shaking her head. “No, this is fine,” she replies coolly.

Wakka shrugs and drops himself down by the pole of the gazebo, his casual demeanor barely masking his unease. Lulu glides forward, her steps deliberate as always, and takes up a spot near me, her arms crossed in her usual thoughtful pose.

“Hmm… guardian talk?” I ask, my tone teasing.

“More like a Tidus talk,” Wakka groans, the frustration evident in his voice.

Lulu’s eyebrow twitches—a telltale sign that she’s already on edge. “We have to discuss it.”

“What’s there to discuss!” Wakka tries to deflect, throwing up his hands.

Her gaze sharpens, and her words cut through his excuses. “Let’s start with the obvious—what exactly is your plan with him?”

Wakka scratches his head, clearly struggling to find a convincing answer. “Lu, I’ll handle it!”

“So, you’ll take responsibility for him?” she counters, her tone unwavering.

“Relax! He’s bound to know someone in Luca,” Wakka says, though even from here I can see the uncertainty in his expression.

“And if not?” Lulu presses, her voice soft but firm.

He shrugs, still trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. “He could always join a blitz team… anyhow, it’s better than just leaving him in Besaid!”

Lulu laughs, though there’s no humor in it. “What? Just leaving him in Luca?”

Wakka throws up his hands in exasperation. “Argh, what do you want me to do?”

Before Lulu can respond, I clear my throat. “Yuna wants to make him a guardian, remember?”

Lulu shifts her gaze to me and nods in agreement. Wakka groans, rubbing the back of his neck as if he just remembered. “Oh yeah, geez… There’s that too, eh?”

“And whose fault is that?” Lulu says sharply, clearly unwilling to let him off the hook.

“Not mine!” Wakka protests, though his voice lacks conviction.

The silence that follows is comical.

“…It is mine, huh?” Wakka finally admits, dropping his head into his hands.

I bark out a laugh, breaking the tension. “It’s out of our hands now,” I say, throwing Lulu a pointed look. She doesn’t seem amused, her gaze hard and unyielding.

“Lu, there’s nothing we can do about it now. We can’t tell Yuna what to do. We can only help guide her, right? You’ve said it yourself before.”

Lulu sighs heavily, her hand dropping from where it was resting on her hip. “I know… She can be stubborn when she wants to be.” Turning away from us, she approaches the railing and gazes out over the dark waters.

Wakka leans in and whispers, “Thanks, man…” His voice is low, genuine.

Humming in acknowledgment, I glance back over my shoulder to enjoy the night breeze. Just then, a familiar blonde head catches my eye. Tidus steps into the center of the main deck, moving slowly but purposefully. Something about his demeanor grabs my attention.

Curiosity stirs, and I turn fully to watch. My sudden interest draws Lulu and Wakka to join me at the railing, all three of us quietly observing the boy below.

For a moment, Tidus just stands there, his eyes fixed on something near his foot. His posture stiffens, then relaxes, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a familiar rhythm. Without warning, he kicks out, and a blitzball springs into view, bouncing against the small set of steps at the ship’s helm and returning to him with precision. Instinct takes over as he volleys it back, this time launching it straight up into the air. He jumps lightly to meet it, using his head to keep the ball afloat before sharply directing it back toward the steps. The ball rebounds again, and Tidus punches it just hard enough to send it upward.

Then comes the real display. With a practiced leap, the blonde twists mid-air, spinning so fast it’s hard to count the rotations. His leg lashes out in a final, powerful kick that sends the blitzball soaring into the open sea, where it disappears beneath the waves.

Huh… I’d pay to see that in a blitzball game.

Wakka’s loud cheer snaps me out of my thoughts. Beside me, Lulu hums, impressed and amused. Wakka, however, is already bounding down the steps, his excitement palpable as he rushes to praise Tidus.

“I’m headed to bed,” Lulu announces, cutting through the moment. “Make sure Yuna doesn’t stay up too late.” Her tone carries a knowing edge as her eyes flick toward the summoner.

I nod, watching as she descends the stairs, her dress swaying with her measured steps. Below, Wakka and the Aurochs are already clamoring for Tidus to repeat the move. Chuckling to myself, I follow at a more leisurely pace.

Reaching the main deck, I find Yuna standing a short distance away, her gaze locked on the scene as Tidus enthusiastically attempts to teach the Aurochs his technique. Kimahri lingers in the shadows at the far end of the deck, his watchful eyes tracking the summoner and anyone who dares get too close. When he notices me, he holds my gaze for a moment before disappearing somewhere out of sight.

Yuna, sensing my approach, doesn’t turn but offers a quiet, “Hello.”

“That was pretty impressive, huh?” I say, leaning casually against the railing beside her.

“That was his father’s favorite move,” she replies softly.

Startled, I glance at her, my eyebrows rising. She meets my gaze briefly before turning back to the scene below, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Sir Jecht showed it to me when I was a child, just before he and my father left for the pilgrimage.”

“He doesn’t believe his dad and Sir Jecht are the same person,” I comment.

“I think… he does,” Yuna says after a pause. “He just doesn’t want to.”

Her words linger in the air, and after a moment, she tilts her head toward me. “Did you talk to him? Back in Kilika?”

Crossing my arms, I take a steady breath. “Yeah, we talked.”

“Did you… find anything out about your world?” Her tone is gentle, curious.

A sigh escapes me as I move to the edge of the boat, swinging myself onto the ledge so my legs dangle over the side. Facing her, I shake my head. “No… he’s familiar with fiends and magic, which is more than I could say when I first got here.” I pause, letting the memory surface. “But the way we got here—both of us—it was the same. We were pulled into something and woke up in the water.”

Yuna’s expression softens, her lips pressing into a thin line as she looks down. “… I wonder… why was it the two of you?” she whispers.

“Hm?” I look up at her.

“Why did Sin choose the two of you?” She repeats the question, her voice barely audible.

For a moment, I say nothing, letting her question settle over me. My gaze shifts to the Aurochs below, where one of them attempts to replicate Tidus’s move, only to land on his backside with a dull thud.

“We don’t even know if Sin is responsible,” I reply quietly, though the weight of the question lingers.

“But we now know it travels by water,” Yuna murmurs thoughtfully, her voice barely audible over the soft lapping of the waves against the ship’s hull.

“Whatever attacked me back in my world definitely wasn’t Sin,” I reply, my voice heavier than I intended. “It looked just like that Sinspawn in besaid. But then again, since when can Sinspawn open rifts?”

Yuna’s brows knit together, her lips parting slightly as if searching for an answer she doesn’t have.

Sighing lightly, I wave a hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it. The plan stays the same: I help you get to Sin, and hopefully, I’ll find the answers to my questions along the way.” A hollow laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “And if I’m really lucky, maybe I’ll even get to go home.”

Yuna’s expression softens, her shoulders drooping. “I’m sorry…”

“For what?” I ask, looking over at her.

“That it’s taken this long to find your way home,” she says quietly.

Leaning forward on my knees, I let out a short huff. “Yeah, it sucks.” My bluntness startles her, and I notice her blink rapidly as I continue. “But at least good people found me. It hasn’t been all bad here. Some days, I even enjoy it.”

Her lips curl into a small, bittersweet smile as she absorbs my words. She doesn’t say anything more, turning her attention back to the blonde who is still entertaining the Aurochs across the deck. Taking the opportunity, I let my head tip back, my eyes tracing the expanse of stars above.

Strange… I think I actually meant that.

Wakka’s voice suddenly carries across the deck, snapping me out of my thoughts. “What was this technique called?” he asks, his tone almost reverent.

The Aurochs have stopped their attempts at mimicking Tidus’s move and now stand transfixed, awaiting his answer.

“Doesn’t have a name,” Tidus replies with a nonchalant shrug. “Anyone can do it if they try.”

My eyes drift back to Yuna, who tilts her head slightly, clearly amused by the humility in his response. She heard it too.

“Show us just one more time, ya?” Wakka pleads, tossing the blitzball back to the blonde.

Tidus chuckles softly, his shoulders rising and falling as he shakes his head. He seems to sense our gaze and, turning to glance at us, finds Yuna waving with a bright smile.

I smirk as his ears flush pink, the color spreading quickly across his face. Straightening his posture as if to shake off his embarrassment, he redirects his focus to the Aurochs and sets up to perform the move again.

The group erupts into cheers as the blitzball is launched effortlessly into the open air. Satisfied for now, the Aurochs begin to practice among themselves, leaving Tidus free to wander toward us with a grin. But it doesn’t last long.

“That was the Jecht Shot, wasn’t it?” Yuna asks gently, still smiling.

The grin slips off Tidus’s face like water off a blade. He turns abruptly, gripping the edge of the boat as his gaze fixes on the horizon. After a moment, he lowers himself to sit next to me, his fingers curling around the railing. “How do you know that?” he mumbles, his voice strained.

Yuna steps forward, her tone light but kind. “Sir Jecht showed it to me when I was a child,” she says, a small laugh escaping her lips. “He called it the ‘Sublimely Magnificent Jecht Shot Mark III.’”

I whistle low, breaking the tension. “Now that’s a mouthful.”

Tidus snorts bitterly, his fingers tightening on the railing. “Stupid name, huh?” He sighs, his expression shifting from frustration to something more vulnerable. “You know what? There is no Mark I or Mark II. My old man made up the name. He said it was just something to hook the crowd.” His voice grows bitter as his grip on the railing slackens. “And you know what? It worked. They came back every night expecting to see Mark I and Mark II. And they really did come back.”

The bitterness in his voice lingers, cutting through the soft hum of the ocean. Yuna watches him closely, her own smile faltering as she processes the mix of pride and resentment laced in his words. For a moment, none of us say anything, the silence filled only by the sound of the waves.

The boy clenches his right hand into a fist, staring at it as if it holds answers. “I used to get so mad,” Tidus murmurs, his voice carrying a bitter edge.

I watch him silently, content to let him unravel his thoughts. Yuna breathes out a soft laugh, light but full of understanding. The sound seems to jolt Tidus out of his reverie, and he shakes his head as if clearing away lingering memories. “Is he alive, you think?” he asks, his tone uncertain, almost fragile.

“I don’t know,” Yuna replies, her voice tender. “But Sir Jecht was my father’s guardian.”

“So… he’s famous here, too?” Tidus lowers his voice, as if the weight of the realization is too much to say out loud.

I nudge him lightly, breaking the tension. “Under the circumstances, that’s a good thing. If anything happened to him, I’d imagine word would’ve spread fast.”

The boy nods absently, biting his lip as he processes my words. Yuna leans forward slightly, her curiosity palpable. “What would you do, if you found him?”

Tidus crosses his arms and leans back, tucking his chin down as he mulls over the question. After a long pause, he drops down from the ledge we’re sitting on, stretching his arms as if the weight of the thought is too much to bear. “Who knows? I thought he died ten years ago.” He walks a few steps away before his voice rises again, tinged with frustration. “Well… I’d probably just smack him one. After everything he put Mom and me through. And because he was famous, I was always… well…” He glances at Yuna, his eyes searching for something.

“You should know, Yuna,” he says, his voice softening. “Your father’s famous too. Everyone in Spira knows him, right?”

Yuna nods, clasping her hands together in front of her. “It is hard to follow in his footsteps as a summoner,” she admits, her voice carrying a quiet strength.

Tidus hums thoughtfully. “Sure.”

“But the honor of having a father like him surpasses all that, I think,” Yuna continues, her eyes glimmering with pride.

Tidus purses his lips, bitterness creeping into his voice. “Well, there wasn’t much to honor about my old man, that’s for sure.”

Yuna gasps lightly, almost offended by the statement. “You shouldn’t say that about your father.”

“I’ve got the right!” Tidus snaps back, his voice cutting through the night air.

Yuna pulls back slightly, catching herself before her emotions can overwhelm her. “… Hm. I guess you do,” she concedes softly, her gaze dropping.

Deciding to interrupt before the conversation could spiral further, I hop down from the ledge, brushing off my pants. “Alright, if you’re both done, it’s getting late.”

The suddenness of my statement startles them both. Tidus opens his mouth to argue, but before he can, a blitzball sails through the air and smacks him square on the head.

“Wha—hey!” he yells, spinning to find Wakka grinning from a few feet away.

“Show me that move again!” the orange-haired blitzball player calls out, his excitement infectious.

Tidus turns back to us, rubbing the back of his head. “I’ll see you in the morning?” he asks, though his eyes linger on Yuna more than me.

“Mhm!” Yuna says cheerfully, waving him off. Tidus jogs back to Wakka and the Aurochs, who are already demanding another demonstration.

Letting Yuna lead, I follow her down the steps to the lower deck. The ship’s interior feels quieter, the night settling around us like a heavy blanket. As we descend the last few steps, my eyes immediately land on two familiar figures loitering in the hall—Donna and Barthello. Donna’s ever-present smirk lights up when she notices us, but Yuna doesn’t seem to register their presence. Her pace remains steady as she heads toward her quarters.

I, on the other hand, make no attempt to hide my reaction. I give Donna a deliberate once-over and smirk back. Her smile falters as her eyes narrow in scrutiny, clearly unimpressed. Barthello, ever the loyal watchdog, squares his shoulders and stares me down, attempting to appear even larger than he already is.

Amused, I chuckle quietly and move on, following Yuna.

The sound of a door knob turning signals Yuna’s arrival at her room. She steps inside, and I catch a glimpse of Lulu sitting on the edge of her bed, absently toying with the antenna of her doll. The black mage raises her head, offering Yuna a warm smile before her gaze shifts to me. She nods in acknowledgment, her expression softening slightly.

“Goodnight, ladies,” I say, stepping back as Yuna bows her thanks. The door clicks shut behind her, and as I turn, I realize Donna and Barthello are nowhere to be seen.

Quick to run, aren’t they?

Heading toward my quarters, I push open the door to my private room. The circular window at the far end frames the ocean perfectly, moonlight reflecting off the waves in a soft, silver glow. The gentle rocking of the ship adds to the peaceful atmosphere.

Setting my gunblade against the wooden nightstand, I sit at the edge of the bed, running my hands through my hair. For a moment, I just stare at the floor, lost in thought. Blinking twice, I glance toward the small shower room tucked into the corner and decide to prepare for bed. The weight of the day settles in my chest, and as I stand, I let out a heavy sigh.

Tomorrow’s going to be another long day.

-

The announcer’s voice echoes over the bustling city, his excitement charging the air as I step onto the main deck. Tidus hangs off the ropes at the edge of the boat, his grin stretching wide as he takes in Luca Port in all its glory. The crowd lining the docks cheers loudly, their energy infectious. My own gaze scans the city, its sheer size and the sheer number of people overwhelming. Everywhere you looked, flags waved, and people clapped, cheering for their teams.

At the bow of the ship, the Luca Goers bask in the crowd’s attention, grinning smugly as they wave confidently to their adoring fans. The seagulls overhead cry out in harmony with the ringing bells of the port as our ship pulls into the dock.

Behind me, the familiar soft footsteps of the summoner catch my attention. Yuna emerges from the lower deck, her gaze flickering with wonder as she takes in the scene. Lulu trails close behind, her composed demeanor unshaken by the chaos around us.

“This event is sponsored by Yevon! And this year we celebrate Maester Mika’s 50th year in office!” the announcer booms. His voice reverberates through the port, and the crowd erupts into another wave of applause.

As the ship is secured and the ramp is lowered, the crew members bow respectfully to Yuna, bidding her farewell. Kimahri takes the lead, stepping down the ramp, his tall frame cutting a path through the bustling dock. Lulu and I flank Yuna, keeping close as we descend, greeted by the prayers and well-wishes of the civilians lining the docks.

Wakka and Tidus remain on the ship, mingling with the Aurochs as the announcer turns his attention to the arriving blitzball teams.

“Ah, over there! The ships carrying the players are arriving now!” The man’s voice rings out over the port as another ship pulls in. A team in green uniforms steps into view, raising their arms to greet the crowd. “All the way from Kilika, it’s the Kilika Beasts! High Summoner Ohalland used to play for them – a big name to live up to,” the announcer declares.

My eyes narrow as I spot a familiar face among the team. The man with tanned skin, light blonde hair, and a distinctive eye patch stands at the forefront. I recognize him immediately. He was there during the sending back in Kilika.

“Their hometown was recently attacked by Sin. Isn’t that right, Jimma?” the announcer asks. His co-host replies, “Yes, Bobba. They’re going to be pulling out all the stops to try and bring back the cup this year. Exciting, isn’t it, folks?”

I scoff under my breath, rolling my eyes as the crowd cheers loudly for the team. My focus drifts, scanning the sea of faces before something catches my eye—a man in a red haori, his clothing standing out as he moves swiftly through the crowd, weaving between bodies. I blink, my mind racing as I try to catch a sight of his face to no avail.

Before I can dwell on it, a firm bump to my shoulder pulls my attention back. I tense instinctively, my eyes darting to the stranger who brushed past, stepping far too close to Yuna for my comfort.

“Well, well, well!! If it isn’t the Besaid Aurochs! They’re a living, breathing, statistical impossibility! I’ve never seen a team this bad!” the announcer bellows, his voice filled with mockery.

Yuna’s pout deepens as Lulu sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. I let out a groan, rubbing my temple as the announcer continues his tirade.

“That’s right! In twenty-three years, they’ve never made it past the first round! Only a few die-hard fans are in the audience today.” The co-host adds with a chuckle, “Best of luck to them… and a safe journey back to Besaid.”

Tidus puffs his chest out in defiance while Wakka, ever the optimist, simply waves to the crowd with a cheerful grin. The Aurochs join in, unbothered by the jeers as they smile broadly, showing no trace of embarrassment. Their positivity is almost admirable, and I find myself chuckling quietly, shaking my head.

“Moving on… Here they are, folks! Our very own Luca Goers!!” the announcer roars, the crowd erupting into a frenzy.

“They’ve got power!”

“They’ve got speed!”

“They’ve got teamwork!”

“They’re an all-round first-class team! And they’re back home in Luca!”

The co-host chimes in, “Without a doubt, they are the favorite this year, Bobba. And after the way they dominated last year, it’d take a miracle for them to lose today.”

“You can say that again, Jimma! Look at the crowd, folks! Look at the crowd! Looks like all of Luca has turned out to cheer the Goers on! They know, I know, and you know, folks! The Luca Goers are number one!”

Tidus, clearly annoyed, kicks at the ground like a petulant child as Wakka shifts uncomfortably, offering a weak smile towards the floor. The orange-haired blitzball player hesitates before speaking, his tone low and somewhat apologetic. “It’s like this every year, ya? Don’t let it bother you.”

But Tidus doesn’t respond. Instead, he twists on his heel and glares toward the crowd, his frustration bubbling to the surface. Before anyone can stop him, he moves with startling speed, snatching a megaphone from a bewildered stranger. The man yells profanities after him, but Tidus doesn’t spare him a glance. Without hesitation, he climbs a stack of supply crates, commanding the attention of everyone around him.

“Stop right there, Goers!” Tidus shouts, his voice amplified over the crowd. A collective gasp ripples through the sea of people, their chatter suddenly hushed. The boy’s obnoxious grin spreads wide as he revels in the attention. Yuna stifles a giggle beside me, her shoulders shaking slightly. Meanwhile, I can only groan inwardly, feeling the secondhand embarrassment creep in.

“You guys are smilin’ now, but not for long! ‘Cause this year, us Aurochs are taking the cup!” Tidus declares dramatically, his laughter echoing through the megaphone like a villain in a bad stage play.

Wakka’s face twists in horror as he smacks a hand to his forehead. “What in Yevon’s name is he doing?” he mutters to no one in particular before stomping over to the crate. With surprising quickness, Wakka yanks Tidus down, wrestling the megaphone away from him.

“What were you thinking, ya?” Wakka snaps, shaking his head in exasperation.

Two of the Aurochs nearby seem far more entertained by the spectacle than their captain. They grin at Tidus, their eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, we sure stood out though! We were on the sphere!” one of them says enthusiastically, referring to the broadcast sphere that had undoubtedly captured the scene.

Before Wakka can properly scold anyone, the bustling crowd shifts, and three civilians rush past, chattering excitedly. “Maester Mika is here!” a dark-haired man exclaims, craning his neck to look back at his companions.

“Already?” a woman replies, her voice high with excitement.

“Dock three! Let’s go!” the third one urges, and they disappear into the throng.

Tidus slouches with a groan, rolling his eyes. “What now?”

“Maester Mika, that’s what!” Yuna answers cheerfully, her eyes lighting up.

“Who?” Tidus asks blankly. His cluelessness earns him a withering look from Lulu, who steps forward to explain.

“Maester Mika is the leader of all the peoples of Spira,” she says, her tone even but stern. “He’s come all the way from Bevelle. This tournament is being held in honor of his fifty years as Maester.”

“Fifty years?” Tidus asks, scratching the back of his head. “Shouldn’t he be, uh… retired by now?”

Wakka gives him a playful shove, though his expression is serious. “Hey! Mind your mouth, now.”

I step in, my curiosity piqued. “We know where he’s docked. I’m interested to see who this Maester is.”

Yuna nods enthusiastically, clasping her hands together. “Yes! Let’s all go see him!”

We make our way toward Dock Three, the crowd growing thicker as we approach. The ramp leading to a luxurious ship is surrounded by a dense mass of people. The vessel itself is a spectacle—its maroon silk banners bear a symbol I recognize from the cloister of trials: the emblem of Yevon.

A band of musicians, all humanoid animals, stand at the base of the ramp, playing a song reminiscent of the hymn sung in temples. The melody carries a reverent weight, silencing the crowd as two armored men step forward, flanking the top of the ramp.

Between them, a tall figure descends the ramp with deliberate grace. The man’s striking appearance immediately sets him apart. His blue hair is styled into two long, horn-like locks that flow down his back, and a singular bang frames his face. Faint blue veins run across his forehead, crossing his vivid purple eyes. His ornate robe, a mix of dark blue, red trim, and a green sash, glimmers faintly in the sunlight as he marches forward. He exudes an air of eerie authority.

“Isn’t that… Maester Seymour?” someone murmurs nearby.

The murmurs spread quickly through the crowd as Seymour reaches the base of the ramp. He kneels, performing the Yevon prayer with practiced precision, and the crowd immediately follows suit. The collective motion of people bowing their heads in reverence sends a ripple through the dock.

As Seymour remains kneeling, another figure slowly emerges from the ship. An elderly man, frail but exuding quiet strength, steps into view. His ceremonial Yevonite robes flow around him, the intricate details catching the light. His bald head gleams beneath his hat, and his triangular beard gives him an air of dignity.

Lulu, Yuna, and Wakka bow their heads in unison, joining the crowd in their prayer. Tidus, however, stands awkwardly, shifting on his feet as he observes the scene with visible confusion. My attention remains fixed on the elderly figure. This must be Maester Mika.

Mika approaches Seymour with a slow, deliberate gait, the two priests at his side flanking him like shadows. His voice, soft yet commanding, carries over the crowd. “People of Spira, I thank you for your generous welcome. Rise, Maester Seymour. And all of you as well.”

The Guado Maester rises, his gaze calm but unreadable. Mika continues, his tone heavier with meaning. “I present to you the son of Maester Jyscal Guado, who departed for the Farplane a fortnight past. As some of you already know, he has been officially ordained a Maester of Yevon.”

The crowd stirs, whispers spreading like wildfire. The weight of Mika’s words settles over the dock, leaving a hushed tension in its wake. Something about Seymour’s presence feels… off. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but an uneasy feeling stirs in my chest.

The blue-haired Maester rises, his movements fluid and slow, as he turns to address the crowd. His confident smile is framed by his unusual features, but it’s his voice that draws everyone in—haunting and airy, as if he’s speaking from somewhere just beyond the physical world.

“I am Seymour Guado. I am honored to receive the title of Maester,” he begins, the words rolling off his tongue with practiced ease. “In life, my father Jyscal worked tirelessly to foster friendship between man and Guado. I vow to carry on his legacy and fulfill my duties as Maester to the best of my abilities.”

The crowd erupts in murmurs of approval, a wave of coos and applause following Seymour’s declaration. His purple eyes sweep over the civilians, his demeanor calm yet commanding. Tidus lets out an annoyed huff beside me, his irritation palpable.

Wakka, ever the enforcer of decorum, nudges Tidus sharply and gives me a pointed look. “Hey, you two. Bow your heads,” he whispers harshly.

Tidus waves him off, resolutely ignoring the suggestion, and crosses his arms instead. I shoot him a knowing look, but he just shrugs, unwilling to entertain the idea of reverence. Not that I can blame him as I refuse to join in as well. My attention flickers back to Maester Mika, who is being guided off the dock by his priests and guards. But Seymour… Seymour lingers.

His gaze shifts through the crowd, deliberate and unhurried, until it lands on Yuna. There’s an unmistakable focus in his expression, almost as though no one else exists. It’s subtle, but it sets my nerves on edge. I frown slightly, my eyes narrowing. Yuna, standing just a few steps away, doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe she does. I can’t see her face from this angle, but something about her posture feels… different.

Finally, Seymour turns and follows Mika, disappearing into the throng of people.

Leaning in, I nudge Yuna softly, “You alright?”

She jumps slightly at my voice, clearly startled. Her head tilts up to meet my gaze, and a bright, cheerful smile spreads across her face. “I’m fine!” she chirps. There’s a faint dusting of pink on her cheeks that doesn’t escape my notice, but I decide not to press her. She seems relieved as I let it go.

Wakka, completely oblivious to the exchange, clenches his fists with determination. “Really psyches you up, ya? Alright! Last meeting before the match! Hustle!” His booming voice breaks through the tension, redirecting everyone’s focus.

Yuna links her arm with mine as we follow the others toward the stadium. Tidus and Wakka walk ahead, hyping each other up with exaggerated confidence. The sun shines brightly over Luca, casting a warm glow over the bustling city. The stone pathways are lined with stalls, vendors, and civilians, while children dart between the crowds, holding balloons and licking at melting cones of ice cream.

“This will be your first time watching a real blitzball game, right, Derek?” Yuna asks, her excitement evident in her tone.

I chuckle, “Yeah, Wakka kept going on and on about how this is the one and only blitzball stadium in all of Spira. It must be massive if it’s meant to host something like this.”

“It is,” Lulu chimes in from my left. “The sphere pool alone requires an enormous amount of water. It’s an impressive feat.”

Curious, I glance toward her. “How do they even make the sphere? I thought Yevon forbids most technology. Is it magic?”

Wakka perks up at the conversation and quickly cuts in. “Yevon decides which technologies are allowed!” His tone is defensive, but there’s an edge of pride in his voice.

“That’s awfully convenient…” I mutter under my breath, earning a huff from Wakka. He waves me off dismissively, while Lulu remains silent, her gaze thoughtful as though she has her own opinions on the matter.

As we approach the stadium, the scale of it becomes even more impressive. A tall stone monument stands at the center of a pool of water, surrounded by a circular path that branches off in different directions. Large signs point toward the grand entrance, where a set of stairs leads up to the towering structure. Wakka marches ahead confidently, his team trailing close behind. Tidus jogs to catch up, his energy seemingly endless.

Inside, the stadium’s open roof allows sunlight to pour into the space, illuminating the towering walls that encase the massive sphere pool. It’s a sight unlike anything I’ve ever seen—a perfect blend of ancient design and modern ingenuity. The sheer size of the place makes me stop for a moment, taking it all in.

At the front desk, Wakka chats enthusiastically with the receptionist while Tidus leans over his shoulder, trying to sneak a peek at the matchups. The rest of the Aurochs hover nearby, exchanging nervous glances.

Once Wakka finishes registering, he grins at the team. “I’ll be right back, ya? Gonna see who we’re matched up with this year!” His excitement is infectious, but Tidus seems more interested in the sights than the competition.

Before I can join the others, Yuna tugs lightly at my sleeve, her smile warm and inviting. “Let’s go take a look around,” she suggests. “It’s your first time in Luca, after all.”

“Lead the way,” I reply with a grin, allowing her to guide me as the stadium buzzes with anticipation behind us.

The blonde looks like he’s about to argue, his mouth opening just slightly, but something—maybe Lulu’s steady presence or Yuna’s gentle insistence—makes him stop. He waves us off instead, albeit a bit petulantly. Yuna, ever diplomatic, smiles brightly and reassures him, “We’ll be back before the first game, I promise.” Tidus mutters something under his breath, but ultimately, he just turns away and joins Wakka at the front desk.

As we walk away, Wakka’s face lights up, fully engrossed in a sphere floating above the desk. He doesn’t even glance in our direction, completely consumed by the match draws.

Stepping back into the sunlight, the atmosphere of Luca feels entirely different now that we’re away from the bustle of the stadium. Civilians line the stone ledges overlooking the water, chatting quietly as seagulls circle overhead. Nearby, children race one another in a lively game of tag, their laughter ringing out like chimes on the breeze. Brightly colored balloons bob in the air, their strings clenched tightly in small fists.

Yuna leads the way, pointing out various landmarks with enthusiasm. Her joy is infectious, and I nod along, making an effort to commit her words to memory. Lulu walks beside us, adding her own comments here and there, her tone much cooler but no less insightful. Together, they paint a vivid picture of Luca’s history and importance, and for a moment, it’s easy to forget everything else—Sin, the pilgrimage, even my own quest to get home.

The serenity breaks when a man and woman approach us, their expressions lighting up the moment they recognize Yuna. They bow deeply in prayer, their gestures respectful and practiced. Yuna mirrors the motion gracefully, her smile warm.

“M’lady summoner,” the woman begins, her voice kind. “It’s so good to see you out and about. Are you here to see the game?”

Yuna nods, her excitement plain. “Yes! One of my guardians will be taking part in the tournament.”

The woman beams, clearly charmed. “Oh, you are very kind to show so much of your support to your guardian, M’lady. You’ve grown into such a fine young woman… I’m sure your father would have been so proud of you.”

Yuna’s smile softens, but I can see her fingers fidgeting slightly. “Thank you,” she says, her voice quiet but sincere.

The woman isn’t done, though. “Do you keep in touch with your father’s guardians? I heard Sir Auron was here.”

That gets my attention immediately, and my head snaps up. Beside me, Yuna visibly freezes, her composure slipping for just a moment. “Are you sure?” she asks, stepping closer. Her voice wavers slightly, tinged with hope. “Sir Auron… he’s really here?”

The man and woman exchange a brief glance before nodding in unison. “Pretty sure,” the man says confidently. “A man who works over at that bar said Sir Auron ordered a drink a while back.”

Lulu’s expression shifts subtly, her usual calm giving way to intrigue. I catch her eye, raising a brow. “Should we see if we can find him?” I ask, my curiosity matching hers.

Yuna pauses, clearly weighing her options, before finally thanking the pair. They bow once more before taking their leave. Once they’re out of earshot, she turns back to us, her resolve firm. “Let’s go get Tidus. We promised him he’d find someone he knew here in Luca.”

Kimahri, silent as always but ever observant, finally speaks up. “We hurry. Wakka will want the boy back soon.”

Yuna nods in agreement and jogs back toward the stadium, her pace quick but not rushed. Lulu takes a few steps to follow before pausing and glancing back at me. She quirks a brow, her expression questioning.

“I’ll check out the bar,” I offer, crossing my arms. “If Auron’s really here, I’ll see if I can find him and keep him in one place. It’ll save time.”

Lulu’s gaze lingers on me for a moment, her expression unreadable, before she flips her braids over her shoulder and starts after Yuna. “Alright,” she calls over her shoulder. “Don’t get lost.”

I chuckle lightly and watch as she strides away, her posture effortlessly confident. Kimahri has already moved ahead, trailing Yuna like a shadow. Once they’re out of sight, I exhale sharply and glance toward the bar the man had pointed out earlier. It’s nestled at the edge of the district, its wooden sign weathered but legible.

-

The bar is buzzing with noise—loud, drunken conversations overlapping with bursts of laughter and the occasional shout. Most of the seats are occupied, while a few patrons stand clustered around tables or the sphere display above the bar, intently watching the blitzball matchups unfold. I weave through the room, avoiding the occasional wayward elbow or swaying figure, and approach the counter.

Leaning against the bar, I let my eyes sweep across the establishment once more. No one here immediately stands out as the legendary guardian, though I can’t help but wonder what Sir Auron would even look like after all these years. Would he still resemble the man in the old tales, or would time have tempered the warrior into something else entirely?

I signal the bartender, who slides over without missing a beat. “What can I get you?”

“Something light,” I reply, keeping my voice casual. The bartender nods, grabbing a bottle and pouring the drink with practiced ease. As he slides it across the counter, I rest my hand on the glass but don’t drink. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have seen a guy named Auron around here, would you?”

The bartender stops, his hand frozen mid-reach for another glass. His eyes narrow slightly as he looks me over. “One of his fans?”

Raising an eyebrow, I pick up my glass, swirling the liquid inside before taking a sip. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Then why’re you looking for him?” he asks, his tone suddenly more guarded. It’s not hostility, but there’s definitely a hint of suspicion there.

Pausing, I tilt my head slightly, letting my expression remain unreadable. Then, with a deadpan tone, I say, “Because he left me after a one-night stand, and now he owes me some answers.”

The bartender’s reaction is immediate. He chokes on absolutely nothing, his face going red as he bursts into a coughing fit. Nearby patrons glance our way, their curiosity piqued, but I ignore them. Grinning to myself, I lean over the counter and give the man a few firm pats on the back, more for dramatic effect than anything else.

“Breathe, buddy,” I tease, gripping his shoulder as he struggles to regain his composure. “Now, about that info?”

Still recovering, the bartender clears his throat and waves off my hand. “I—uh… I’m sorry to hear that. Sure, I’ll help…” He takes a moment to straighten himself before continuing. “He was here a while ago, but he didn’t stick around. Just came in, asked me to refill his sake bottle, and left.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Yeah, east entrance of the stadium. It’s a little ways from here.”

I hum thoughtfully, nodding. “Anything else?”

The bartender hesitates, his brow furrowed as he seems to replay the encounter in his head. “Not really… He wasn’t much for conversation. To be honest, it was almost surreal seeing him.”

“Surreal how?” I ask, leaning in slightly.

The bartender meets my gaze, his expression serious now. “No one’s seen or heard from that man in years. Everyone—including me—assumed he met his end when he fought alongside Lord Braska. And then, out of nowhere, he shows up like no time has passed.”

I glance down at my drink, my fingers tightening slightly around the glass. Auron being here at all raises more questions than answers. Finishing off the last of my drink, I set the glass back down and nod my thanks, preparing to leave. But then something clicks, and I stop just before turning away.

“One more thing,” I say, looking back over my shoulder. “What was he wearing?”

The bartender blinks, then tilts his head as he tries to recall.

“A red haori.”

Chapter Text

Waves ripple endlessly in the distance, sunlight glinting off their surface like shards of glass aimed directly at my eyes. Shielding my gaze with a hand, I squint down the winding pathway that hugs the coastline. The rhythmic crash of the tide fills the air, a steady backdrop to the bustling crowd around me. My attention shifts restlessly from one person to another.

A red haori and a sake bottle. You’d think someone like that would stand out like a sore thumb.

The memory of a man in red flashes through my mind, barely more than a silhouette seen from the corner of my eye at the docks. My jaw tightens.

If it was him… why would he keep his distance?

I shake my head sharply. It’s just a coincidence. Nothing more.

Above me, seagulls cry out, wheeling in lazy arcs against the clear sky as I press on, my pace picking up without realizing it. Then I notice the crowd ahead. My steps falter. They aren’t looking at me.

Curious, I glance back toward the bar I’d left behind and spot a commotion. It takes me a beat too long to recognize what’s happening, but when I do, my stomach drops.

A woman in a kimono, her sleeves unmistakable, is being pulled along by a group of blonde-haired men wearing goggles.

Al Bhed.

Yuna.

I’m already moving before my brain catches up, retracing my steps. “Hey! Out of my way!” My voice cracks through the din as I shoulder my way through the growing crowd. The urgency in my tone scatters some of them, but not fast enough.

By the time I break free, Yuna and her captors have disappeared. A string of curses falls from my lips as I shout at nearby civilians, demanding answers. Their gestures point me in a vague direction—toward the docks. Without hesitation, I bolt.

The narrow path blurs underfoot as I sprint. My heart pounds like a war drum, though I can’t tell if it’s from exertion or the sickening panic that claws at my chest. Halfway down the incline, I spot a familiar figure coming down the steps of the stadium locker rooms.

“Lu!” I call out, breathless.

Lulu halts mid-stride, her sharp eyes immediately locking onto mine. The slight crease of her brow deepens as she takes in my frantic expression. “Derek? What’s wrong?”

“Yuna!” I gasp, trying to catch my breath. “She’s been taken—Al Bhed—toward the docks.” I gesture wildly behind me, still panting.

“What?!” Her voice cuts like ice, the controlled anger in it startling even me. But she doesn’t waste time. Her gaze follows my direction, falling on a group of Al Bhed further down the path. They kneel by contraptions that spring to life with mechanical whirs and clicks.

Her lips curl in distaste. “Machina.”

“They’re trying to slow us down,” I mutter, gripping the hilt of my gunblade so tightly my knuckles whiten.

Lulu doesn’t hesitate, summoning her doll with a flick of her wrist. “The Al Bhed took Yuna?”

I nod grimly. “It looked like a group of them. But… she didn’t even try to fight back. Why would she go willingly?”

Her silence is answer enough. Something in her expression suggests she knows more than she’s saying, but there’s no time to press her. The first machina lunges, and the fight begins.

Civilians scatter as the machines charge, their metallic bodies gleaming under the sun. Sparks fly as my blade clashes against claws and spinning gears. Lulu’s magic ignites the battlefield, lightning arcing through the air and tearing through metal like paper. The smell of scorched machinery fills my nose, but there’s no time to dwell on it.

“Where are Tidus and Kimahri—?” My question dies as Wakka’s dashes down the same steps and cuts through the chaos.

“Yuna! Where is she?!” The orange-haired blitzball player barrels toward us, his face red with fury and panic.

Lulu quickly explains the situation, but Wakka’s frustration boils over. “I knew it! It’s the Al Bhed! They want us to lose the game!”

“What?” I blink, exchanging a confused glance with Lulu. “We know it’s the Al Bhed, but… lose the game? What does that have to do with anything?”

“They’re the Psyches, our first opponents!” Wakka snaps, scratching his head angrily. “They’re holding Yuna hostage so we’ll forfeit. I’ll stall the game, but you have to find her!”

Lulu scoffs. “To stoop so low… They must be desperate.”

I grip my weapon tightly. “Where’s Tidus? Or Kimahri?” I repeat my earlier question.

“I don’t know,” Lulu admits, already turning back toward the stadium. “They were with her before. Maybe they’re still at the bar.”

There’s a briefly shared moment. The three of us share a nod and split ways. Wakka sprints back toward the locker room, Lulu heads for the bar, and I push forward down the path to the docks.

The docks are eerily empty, save for the machina stationed at every turn. I shift my weapon into its gun form, rolling my neck in anticipation. The first machine lunges, claws swiping through the air, and I fire a bolt of magic directly into its chest. The impact triggers an explosion, sending me skidding back. I groan, brushing off debris as another machine charges.

The fight feels endless. Each time I take one down, another takes its place. My magic flares, overloading cores and short-circuiting the machines before they can explode. Sweat drips down my brow as I press forward, my lungs burning with exertion.

Then I see her.

Two docks away, Yuna stands among her captors, her hands bound tightly in front of her. My gut clenches at the sight, but my path is blocked as more machina shuffle into place.

Before I can react, a shadow descends from above. Kimahri lands with precision, his lance skewering the nearest machine. With a powerful swing, he hurls it away just before it explodes. The blue-furred guardian snarls, stepping into place beside me.

“What took you so long?” I call out, half-joking as the tension ebbs slightly.

Behind me, I hear Lulu’s sharp voice. “Did you find her?”

I nod toward the dock. “There. But we’re running out of time.”

Tidus catches up, his breath ragged. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

Together, we face the final wave of machina. The battle is fierce but brief, the four of us cutting through the machines with ruthless efficiency. As the last one falls, I sprint toward the dock, only to see the boat beginning to pull away.

“Let’s go!” Lulu shouts, her voice firm.

We leap aboard in unison, landing on the deck just as the boat drifts into the open sea.

The moment we start catching our breath, a low rumble from beneath the deck makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The metallic screech of grinding gears follows, piercing the air as the floor trembles beneath our feet. A massive contraption begins to rise, steam hissing from its hinges as if awakening from a deep slumber. The head of a colossal machina emerges, its twin cylinders lined with spiral ridges spinning up with a menacing hum.

That doesn’t look good.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Tidus groans, his exasperation mirroring the knot tightening in my chest.

I squint at the towering machine as it clicks and whirrs to life, the sound of pumping pistons growing louder with each passing second. “What… is it doing?”

“It doesn’t matter. We need to stop it,” Lulu says sharply, but her gaze shifts to the side, locking onto a crane stationed at the edge of the deck. “That crane… Perhaps we can use it.”

Tidus perks up, rushing to the controls with the reckless enthusiasm of someone who has no idea what they’re doing. Predictably, the crane doesn’t even twitch when he starts slamming random buttons.

“What the hell!?” He kicks the panel in frustration, yelping when he stubs his foot.

The machina doesn’t wait for us to figure things out. It lurches forward, targeting us with unsettling precision. Kimahri and I move instinctively, drawing its attention away from the others.

Kimahri summons lightning, the crackling energy arching toward the machina’s core. But instead of short-circuiting, the machine absorbs the attack, its cylinders spinning faster. The ronso’s growl turns into a grunt of pain as the machine retaliates, slamming him into the ship’s railing with brutal force.

“It’s too large to overload! The same trick on the smaller ones won’t work here!” I call out, keeping my focus on the lumbering beast.

Kimahri gives me a sharp nod, already recovering and adjusting his stance. We fall into a rhythm, charging together. I shift my gunblade into its firearm mode, channeling a chill along my arm that spreads into the barrel. I fire a series of ice bolts at its joints, the spikes embedding between its hinges and freezing over, grinding its movements to a halt.

Kimahri takes the opening, lunging forward with his lance in a flurry of strikes. Sparks and shards of metal fly as the machina struggles against his relentless assault.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Lulu casting a spell. My eyes widen in recognition as the sky darkens. “Wait—lightning doesn’t work—”

My warning dies on my lips as her spell strikes the crane instead. Electricity courses through the machinery, and to my surprise, the dormant crane jolts, the gears grinding weakly to life.

Well, alright then.

“Hey, kid! Tag me out!” I call over to Tidus, motioning him over.

Tidus blinks in surprise but grins, sprinting toward me. As he passes, I place a hand on his shoulder, a familiar warmth spreading through my fingertips. Light ripples down my arm and into the boy, forming the sigil of a clock over his back. The hands spin wildly before fading, leaving him visibly energized.

“Give it hell, kid. Make that thing dance.” I nod toward the machine, smirking as he stumbles slightly before recovering with wide eyes.

“Woah… cool!” Tidus marvels before charging in to join Kimahri, weaving around the machina’s attacks with newfound speed. Kimahri’s flat stare in my direction nearly makes me laugh, but I hold it in.

Meanwhile, Lulu and I focus on the crane. I approach the console, muttering, “I really hope this doesn’t fry the damn thing…” Sparks crackle between my fingers as I press my palm against the panel. The coils of electricity hum through my arm, the buzzing sensation growing sharper with every pulse.

The crane groans, its gears creaking sluggishly before clunking into motion. I grit my teeth, pouring more energy into it, until finally, the machine roars to life.

“Almost there, Derek! Hold on!” Lulu calls out, her thunder magic striking the crane in intervals to keep it powered.

Kimahri growls as he’s slammed into the deck again, but Tidus darts around the machina, drawing its attention with quick jabs and taunts. Blitzballs shoot out of the machine’s cylinders, most of them missing thanks to his enhanced agility. The ones that hit, he shrugs off with a pained grin.

“Come on, come on!” I growl, slamming my weapon against the console. A sudden burst of whirring noises signals success, and the crane lurches forward. “Got it! Go!” I shout to Lulu, who shifts her focus back to the machina.

The crane’s claw extends, hovering over the lumbering beast. With a satisfying slam, it descends, pinning the machina beneath its weight and halting its movements. The claw tightens, crushing the spinning cylinders until they screech to a stop.

“Yank it! YANK IT!” Tidus’s voice cracks in panic. His cries are abruptly halted with a quick ow, but I find no chance to glance up.

I fumble with the controls, managing to retract the claw and lift the machina into the air. The massive machine dangles awkwardly before its top half is severed completely from the main body, dropping its lower half with a thud. I swing the crane over the edge of the boat. With the press of a button, the claw releases, sending the top half of the machina plummeting into the sea.

The remaining body collapses with a deafening thud, its attacks rendered useless. Taking a shaky breath, I glance back at the team. Tidus is rubbing his head sheepishly while hiding behind Kimahri, who looks thoroughly unimpressed. The ace stares firmly at Lulu’s stuffed animal as it makes its way back. Lulu’s expression remains stoic as she watches the collapsed heap. She extends her arm out and her doll hops back into her arms.

I stare at them incredulously before shaking myself.

“Alright! Let’s finish this!” Tidus cheers, the adrenaline still evident in his voice. A faint light surrounds the four of us, I feel lighter and a small boost of energy once it fades. It only takes a few well aimed strikes and the machina collapses under its vulnerability.

The metal doors at the back of the deck hiss open. An Al Bhed stumbles out, collapsing onto the floor. Yuna steps out behind him, brushing her hands off calmly.

“Yuna!” Lulu hurries over, fussing over the summoner with a mixture of relief and exasperation.

“I hope you hurt them,” Lulu says coldly.

Yuna smiles sweetly, replying with a soft, “A little.”

Tidus laughs nervously, his gaze darting around the ship. “Everything alright, kid?” I call out, noticing his sudden shift in demeanor.

He hesitates before speaking. “There were these Al Bhed who saved me when I first got here… I was kinda hoping this was their ship, but it’s not. I wonder if they’re all gone…”

“What happened?” Yuna turns and asks curiously.

Tidus scratches his head and rests his hands on his hips, “Sin came up near us… I made it out okay, but I don’t know what happened to their ship.”

Yuna frowns, her voice thoughtful. “Was there anyone named Cid?”

That’s the first time I’m hearing the name, I raised an eyebrow at Yuna but remained silent, listening intently to the conversation.

“Cid?” Tidus blinks in confusion, shaking his head. “I don’t know… They were all speaking Al Bhed.”

Yuna’s expression softens as she murmurs, “He’s my uncle. But I’ve never met him.”

Her revelation stuns me, and I raise an eyebrow, glancing between her and Tidus as they piece it together.

Hold on…

“Wait, so you’re Al Bhed too?” Tidus asks, wide-eyed.

Yuna nods. “On my mother’s side, yes.”

Before I can ask, Lulu interjects sharply, “Don’t tell Wakka about Yuna's lineage. The thing about Wakka- he never had much love for the Al Bhed..”

The blonde freezes. “Woah! I gotta tell Wakka!”

Lulu glares. “I thought I told you not to tell Wakka!”

Realizing the situation, we all shout in unison, “The game!”

Lulu’s face goes slack, “Oh!”

A burst of light from Lulu’s fingertips streaks into the sky as we hurry to turn the ship around. I head in through the door Yuna came from, deeper within the ship’s interior. Tidus follows along while the others remain above deck.

–

The ship itself is small and compact, its narrow halls leaving no room for wandering or getting lost. A faint hum of machinery vibrates through the metal walls, though my attention is drawn to the trail of unconscious bodies scattered along the path. No more than five Al Bhed lay sprawled out, their goggles askew and limbs splayed awkwardly.

A soft chuckle escapes me as Tidus nudges the boot of one with his foot, tilting his head curiously. “They’re out cold,” he states matter-of-factly, as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious.

“Yuna’s tougher than she looks,” I muse aloud, the thought settling in as I glance down the corridor. My voice softens with a hint of admiration. “It’s starting to make sense why she didn’t fight back on the pier…”

Tidus swivels his head toward me, brows furrowed. “Whaddaya mean?” He stretches, throwing his arms behind his head in that casual, carefree way he does, completely oblivious to what I’m getting at.

Pausing briefly, I study the unconscious forms at our feet before answering. “She could’ve easily stopped herself from getting taken. Fought back, made a scene. But she didn’t. She must’ve thought Cid sent them.”

The blonde nods slowly, digesting my words. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense…” His eyes shift to the metal doors at the end of the hall, and his expression brightens. “Hey, you know how to work this thing?”

I glance back at him, a teasing grin spreading across my face. “Nope. First time for everything, huh?”

Tidus freezes, his jaw dropping slightly. “Wait, what?”

I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head as I stride toward the doors. “Relax, kid. I worked an Al Bhed crane; this’ll be a charm. Probably…” I pause for dramatic effect, shooting him a playful smirk over my shoulder. “You might wanna hold onto something, though.”

His wide-eyed expression is priceless as he gawks at me, somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

“Great, just great,” he mutters under his breath, crossing his arms as he trails behind me.

With a quick press of the console, the metal doors slide open with a hiss, revealing the compact bridge of the ship. The controls are clustered together, surrounded by blinking lights and foreign symbols etched across the panels. I whistle softly, stepping inside.

“Well, here goes nothing.” I crack my knuckles, ready to dive into the mystery of Al Bhed technology once again.

—

With some difficulty and more than a little fumbling, I manage to steer the ship back to the docks. As the anchor drops and we step off, the roar of the crowd draws my attention. Above us, the sphere replay showcases the final moments of the match, Wakka’s winning goal looping for all to see.

Tidus cheers alongside Yuna, his excitement contagious. “We won!” he exclaims, punching the air.

Yuna claps her hands together, smiling brightly. “We did it! We’re in the finals!”

The sphere continues to replay the last thirty seconds, including Wakka’s desperate, nearly-collapsing shot to secure the victory. His exhaustion is palpable even through the screen.

Beside me, Lulu folds her arms, her tone sharp but tinged with something else—disappointment, perhaps. “Not the most… graceful win. If it was Chappu, he’d still be standing.”

The blonde spins to face her, quick to defend his teammate. “Hey, aren’t you being just a little unfair?”

“...Excuse me?” Lulu’s voice drops to a chilling level, and for a second, I feel the ambient mana around her shift. Even Kimahri, usually unflinching, stiffens slightly at the tension in the air. I take an instinctive step back, already bracing for the fallout.

But Tidus barrels on, utterly lacking in self-preservation. “I know I could never take Chappu’s place. You’re the one who told Wakka that, right, Lulu? And I don’t think Wakka would ever try to take Chappu’s pl—”

“You don’t want to finish that sentence,” Lulu interjects, her voice icy and laced with an unmistakable warning.

Tidus finally catches on, his mouth snapping shut as his face pales. “Uuahh… I mean—”

Sensing the danger, I step in, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking my head firmly. “Let’s, uh, get back to Wakka, alright?” My voice is light, but there’s no room for argument. Tidus nods hastily, and we head off.

--

The sight that greets us in the locker room is almost comical. Wakka lies flat on his back on a bench in the far corner, surrounded by the worried faces of the Aurochs. His head lolls to one side, groaning as he attempts to sit up, a blitzball slipping from his grasp and rolling across the floor.

Tidus stops the ball with his foot, smirking. “Miss me?”

Leaning against the doorway, I take in the scene, grimacing slightly. “You don’t look so good, Wakka.”

The orange-haired blitzball player groans, barely cracking open an eye. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know!”

Tidus tosses the ball back to Datto, who catches it absentmindedly. Meanwhile, Yuna rushes forward, her expression full of concern. “All this because of me… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

Wakka shakes his head weakly, though his brow furrows in worry. “How can you let some Al Bhed kidnap you?”

A tense silence follows his words, but Tidus steps in before it can fester, his tone light. “Hey, let it go, alright?”

Wakka exhales heavily, slumping back against the bench. “Just… don’t go near Al Bhed anymore, okay? They’re trouble.”

I glance toward Yuna, her composed expression betraying nothing of her Al Bhed lineage. She doesn’t seem fazed by Wakka’s remarks—if anything, she smiles at him with a kind understanding, as if she knows he means no harm. Still, I can’t help but watch her a moment longer, her quiet strength both admirable and unnerving.

An announcement crackles through the speakers, calling all players to prepare for the finals in thirty minutes. Yuna perks up, turning to me with a spark of excitement. “Oh! We should find some good seats!”

I chuckle softly, nodding. “Lead the way.” As Yuna pulls Tidus along, Kimahri follows silently, his towering frame a constant, watchful presence. I glance back at Lulu, who lingers by Wakka’s side, her sharp gaze softening as she watches him groan dramatically. Smiling to myself, I decide to leave her be.

Leaving and shutting the door behind me, I come out in time to see Yuna wishing Tidus the best of luck, a slight tinge of red dusting her cheeks while doing so. The ace scratches his head, soaking up the attention. Kimahri stands stoically off to the side, keeping a watchful eye on the surroundings. After promising to see him and Wakka after the game, she waves me over. I pat the blonde on the shoulder wishing the ace some luck of my own before following Kimahri and Yuna.

The entrance to the stadium is alive with energy, the crowd buzzing as we ascend the main staircase. Near the concession stands, a worker hands Yuna a bag of cotton candy shaped like a running cactus. The summoner giggles at the whimsical treat before showing it to me.

I peer into the bag curiously. Before she can pull it away, I pluck off one of the cactus’s arms and eat it in one swift bite. “Not bad,” I remark, grinning as Yuna gasps in mock scandal.

“Derek!” she protests, though her laughter betrays her amusement.

Still chuckling, I merge into the ascending crowd, Yuna and Kimahri trailing closely behind. “Shouldn’t we wait for Lulu?” Yuna wonders aloud, nibbling delicately on the cactus’s remaining limbs.

Glancing back, I shrug. “She’ll catch up. Pretty sure she’s having a few words with Wakka.”

“Oh…” Yuna slows, turning as if considering going back.

“She’ll be fine,” I say quietly, interrupting her train of thought. “Besides, Wakka needed to know what Tidus said earlier. It’ll mean much more coming from Lulu as well.”

Yuna’s steps falter, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “What makes you so sure?” she asks softly.

“That boyfriend of yours—” I begin, smirking as Yuna’s face turns a deeper red. “He said what she needed to hear. Lulu might be blunt, but she’s not unkind. You know her better than I do. She wouldn’t hurt Wakka without reason.”

Yuna hums thoughtfully, nodding to herself. “Yes… I suppose you’re right.”

As we reach the top of the stairs, the stadium opens before us in all its glory. The enormous blitzball sphere pool floats suspended in the center, its surface shimmering as ripples of light dance across it. Above, the protective dome encloses the sky, clouds swirling faintly behind the translucent barrier.

A stadium worker takes notice of Yuna, offering a polite prayer before directing us to reserved seating for “Yevon officials and representatives.” The section sits high above the main seating area, providing an excellent view of the match below.

“Looks like we’re getting the best seats in the house,” I quip, leaning toward Yuna in a mock whisper. She giggles, thanking the worker before following Kimahri up the steps.

As we settle into our seats, Yuna glances back toward the entrance. “I hope Lulu can find us!”

I lean back, crossing my arms with a small laugh. “I’m sure she’ll manage.”

Kimahri, ever vigilant, sits silently next to Yuna at the end of the row, his eyes scanning the crowd. Yuna clutches the remains of her cotton candy, her gaze drifting toward the arena as the anticipation builds.

The broadcaster’s live narration comes into focus over the roaring crowd, “but who could have imagined… a championship game between these two teams? Our legendary Luca Goers going against… the horrendously ill-fated Besaid Aurochs!”

Another broadcaster speaks, “This looks like history in the making, Bobba.”

The summoner clasps her hands together while looking onward, searching for the appearance of the teams within the game sphere. A slight frown curls my lips as I watch the Aurochs and the Goers enter the sphere.

“Where’s Wakka?”

“I… don’t know… I hope he’s alright.” Yuna finishes lamely.

My eyes drift towards the entrance of the stadium. A few stragglers arrive but no black mage in sight.

Lulu must still be with him..

—

Kimahri sits with a permanent frown, his arms crossed as his watchful gaze shifts from the game to the surrounding crowd. He doesn’t seem interested in the action unfolding in the sphere, but I can’t say the same for the rest of us. Several screens are positioned around the crown of the sphere, offering close-up views of the match. The camera focuses on Tidus just as he begins weaving through his opponents, and I let out a low whistle, impressed despite myself.

Yuna’s excitement is palpable, her cheers filling the air as Tidus scores the first goal. Her hands clasp together in delight, her eyes practically sparkling. “We’re in the lead!” she exclaims joyfully.

“Not bad, kid,” I mutter under my breath, leaning forward. I can’t help but grin as I watch Tidus move with precision and agility. Wakka always hyped him up as “a blitzball pro,” and, honestly, I’d thought it was just exaggeration. Watching the blonde in action, though, I realize I was wrong.

He’s not just good. He’s incredible.

I glance at Yuna, catching her practically glowing with excitement as she watches the match. Unable to resist, I nudge her playfully. Her cheeks flush immediately, and she looks away with a shy smile, which only makes me chuckle.

The match continued with intensity, the Luca Goers pushing back hard. The crowd erupts when one of their players intercepts a pass and scores, tying the game at 1-1. The bell rings, signaling halftime, and the players disappear below the sphere for a brief reprieve. Around us, some spectators stretch, while others filter out for refreshments. Yuna remains seated, stretching her arms above her head as she hums contentedly.

“Blitzball is always so fun to watch,” she remarks, her voice light.

“It’s definitely something,” I reply, leaning back in my seat.

She tilts her head curiously. “You’re not enjoying it?”

I shake my head quickly. “No, I am. I just… didn’t think I’d care so much about the Aurochs winning.” I smile faintly. “Guess I got caught up in it.”

Yuna laughs softly before growing thoughtful. “Did you have games like this in your world?”

Her question catches me off guard, my eyebrows rising in surprise. “Yeah… We had plenty of games, actually. Pretty similar to this—grand stadiums, crowds cheering for their teams. We even had something called the Olympics.”

Yuna leans in, her eyes bright with curiosity. “The Olympics? What kind of game is that?”

I smile, memories flashing briefly in my mind. “It’s not just one game. It’s a series of events—different sports—held over two weeks. The whole world would watch it.”

Her expression shifts to awe. “The whole world? That’s amazing! I wish I could see it...” Her voice trails off, her gaze dropping to her hands as she fidgets slightly.

I watch her for a moment before nudging her gently. “Well, after we defeat Sin, and I figure out how to get home, maybe you can. I don’t see why not.”

Her eyes lift, and a soft smile forms on her lips. “I would like that…” she says quietly.

Chuckling, I warn her, “I’ll tell you now, though—the Olympics only happen once every four years. And I have no idea when the next one is. I’m a bit… out of the loop these days.”

The joke doesn’t quite land as she merely nods, her smile lingering before she turns her attention back to the sphere. Her reaction catches me off guard, and I find myself studying her for a moment, trying to read the quiet thoughts behind her serene expression.

The broadcaster’s voice booms from above, snapping my attention back to the game. The players return to the sphere, swimming to their positions as the countdown begins. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, my eyes fixed on the screens as the camera zooms in on Tidus. He’s grinning ear to ear, his energy infectious.

The buzzer goes off, and the blitzball shoots into the air. Tidus reacts a split second faster than his opponents, snatching the ball and weaving through the water with remarkable speed. Yuna and I cheer as he maneuvers around the Goers, the ball passing between players before landing back in Tidus’ hands. My heart races as the screen shows him cornered by three opposing players.

Without hesitation, Tidus launches the ball into Bickson’s face, the impact snapping the Goer’s head back. The crowd collectively gasps as the blitzball rebounds to Tidus, who swiftly kicks it into Balgerda’s stomach, forcing her back. A final strike sends the ball slamming into Raudy’s face, effectively stunning all three.

The crowd erupts, and my eyes widen as I recognize the move. “So, this is the Jecht Shot…” I mutter, my voice full of awe.

Tidus follows through with a cyclonic spin, his form almost graceful as he delivers a powerful kick. The blitzball rockets through the water, slipping past the goalie’s desperate reach and slamming into the goal.

The stadium explodes with cheers, the energy palpable as Yuna and I jump to our feet, clapping and cheering alongside the crowd. Tidus’ face comes up on the screens, his grin as wide as ever, and for a moment, it feels like the entire world is celebrating his victory.

“That’s 2-1!” Yuna exclaims, her voice barely audible over the deafening roar of the crowd.

The ovation is electric, but soon it begins to morph, shifting into something more unified. The noise sharpens, words rising and falling in waves as the audience builds a rhythmic chant. I glance around, trying to parse the words amidst the growing energy of the crowd.

“Wakka! Wakka! Wakka!”

The chant becomes clear, and my gaze flickers over to Yuna, her hands clasped tightly as she listens intently. The commentator’s voice booms from the speakers overhead, “The fans are getting impatient! They’re calling for some action!”

In the sphere pool, the players pause mid-movement, their attention drawn by the uproar. Even the energy of the game seems to hang suspended, waiting for what comes next. The commentator adds with a note of curiosity, “Everyone seems to be calling for Wakka, folks! Say… where is that player going?”

The holographic screen above the pool shifts, the camera zooming in as it tracks Tidus swimming out of bounds. The crowd murmurs in confusion. “He’s leaving the sphere pool. Could it be an injury?” the commentator speculates.

Leaning slightly toward Yuna, I lowered my voice to ask, “You really think Wakka’s in any condition to play right now?”

The summoner doesn’t respond immediately, her expression softening into something wistful. “He said… this would be his last game. That he’d be a full-time guardian after this.” Her voice carries a quiet weight, a bittersweet note threaded through her words. Her gaze grows distant, and she adds softly, “I… don’t think he wants to leave, but he said my pilgrimage was something he couldn’t miss.”

I regard her silently for a moment, the weight of her words settling between us. Shifting my gaze down to my hands, I let them rest on my knees as I mull it over. “Well… there’s always later, right? After the whole pilgrimage, he could just rejoin the team.”

Yuna doesn’t respond immediately, her gaze still distant, lost in thought. The chant continues to ripple through the stadium, louder and louder, but she remains quiet, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. I glance at her again, feeling the unspoken tension, a kind of sorrow she’s trying to keep to herself.

The sound of the crowd grows to a fever pitch, but beside me, Yuna’s silence is its own kind of roar.

—

Crowds of people murmur and shuffle in their seats across the stadium, their conversations blending into a low hum. We wait patiently, though the minutes stretch on unbearably, when a familiar figure in black catches the corner of my vision. I lift my hand in the air, signaling her over. “There she is.”

Lulu notices me immediately and strides up the steps with her usual composed grace.

“Ah! Lulu!” Yuna’s voice rises with relief as she scoots closer to Kimahri, making room for her. The Ronso shifts slightly to accommodate without comment.

Lulu eases into the seat between Yuna and me with a heavy sigh. I raise a brow, leaning slightly toward her. “You two have a good talk?”

Her red eyes flicker to me, unimpressed. “Don’t.”

A humorous laugh escapes my chest before I shake my head and lean back, letting the topic drop. She’s clearly not in the mood for teasing, and I’m not about to push it.

Moments later, the atmosphere in the stadium shifts, the murmurs escalating into excitement. A growing uproar rises from the audience closest to the Aurochs’ side of the sphere pool. I frown in confusion, my gaze darting to Yuna before refocusing on the commotion.

The commentator’s voice booms across the stadium. “I wonder what’s happening. The crowd is going wild!”

The holographic sphere flickers and zooms in on the cause of the commotion. The image sharpens, and there he is—Wakka, swimming into the sphere pool with that stubborn determination he’s always carried.

“Ah! It’s Wakka! He’s back on the field and ready to go!” the commentator announces enthusiastically.

The Aurochs immediately gather around their captain, visibly reinvigorated by his presence. The sphere gives us a clear view of their expressions, a mixture of relief and fierce determination.

The commentator trails off a little awkwardly, “The Aurochs seem glad to have him back.”

I glance at Yuna, who is clapping softly, her smile bright with hope. The energy around us grows, anticipation buzzing in the air.

With Tidus subbed out, Wakka leads his team into the second half, taking the offensive with an aggression the Aurochs lacked earlier. The difference is stark—Wakka’s leadership reignites their confidence. They move as a unit now, each player backing the other in a way that wasn’t there before. While they’re still outclassed in raw skill, their cohesion allows them to keep pace with the Goers.

But it isn’t without its challenges. Bickson intercepted the ball from Letty in a clean steal, slipping through their defense line to land another goal for the Goers. The crowd collectively groans, though a wave of cheers erupts again, urging the Aurochs not to give up.

2-2.

Despite the setback, the Aurochs refuse to waver, their morale bolstered by Wakka’s presence. The clock ticks down, only a minute remaining. The team pushes forward, every pass and tackle filled with grit. Bickson charges in, his eyes set on Wakka, but Letty takes the hit, holding him off just long enough for the captain to break through.

Lulu shifts beside me, leaning slightly forward. The intensity in her gaze catches my attention, and I smirk at her rare show of enthusiasm. I glance around, noticing how the murmurs have fallen into a tense, expectant silence. All eyes are locked on the sphere pool as Wakka winds up for the final shot.

3…

Energy seems to radiate off him, his arm pulling back with deliberate precision before launching forward. The blitzball cuts through the water like a bolt of lightning, its speed and force almost rivaling Tidus’s earlier performance.

2…

Raudy, the Goers’ goalie, reacts, his hands stretching out, fingertips grazing the ball’s surface. It’s not enough. The ball sails past, slamming into the back of the goal with resounding finality.

1…

The bell rings, signaling the end of the game.

3-2. The score shines brightly on the holographic display above.

The silence shatters as the stadium erupts. People leap from their seats, clapping and shouting. Some embrace their neighbors, overcome with joy. Yuna springs to her feet, clapping her hands together and giggling uncontrollably. Beside her, Lulu rises more slowly, but the faint curve of her lips betrays her pride. Even Kimahri, ever the stoic guardian, remains seated but twitches his tail in what I assume is quiet approval.

Leaning back in my seat, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Unbelievable. The Aurochs actually won. This is definitely one for the record books.”

Standing with a stretch, I groan out my relief as my joints loosen. Sniffing before glancing to the team, “well, we should meet those two back at the locker ro-”

A scream.

-

The stadium shakes, the murmur of the crowd quickly shifting to screams and chaos. My head snaps up toward the source of the commotion—several stairs above us, fiends emerge, snarling and snapping as they tear through civilians pouring out from the upper entrances. Smaller bird-like creatures descend from the skies, their sharp cries blending with the panicked shouts of the fleeing crowd.

My grip tightens on the hilt of my gunblade, and I instinctively step forward. From the corner of my eye, I spot Tidus and Wakka still in the sphere pool, now surrounded by fiends that somehow managed to infiltrate the water.

“What the hell?!” I bark over the chaos. “Where did they even come from?!”

The ground beneath my feet vibrates violently as an enormous fiend tears through the upper entrance. Its hulking form dwarfs everything around it, and its monstrous roar echoes like a shockwave. The creature begins its descent, four glowing red eyes brimming with feral rage. Its jagged, armored scales catch the stadium lights, gleaming like molten steel.

Beside me, Lulu reacts immediately, shoving Yuna further down the aisle and away from the incoming danger. Kimahri leaps over the seats into the next row, giving himself more room to maneuver. The fiend snaps its massive jaws at us, its movements slow but calculated. I exchange a grim look with the others.

There’s no room to fight something that big here… Not with the limited space… and more likely on the way.

My fingers curl, and frost begins to gather in my palm, the chill spreading up my arm. Vaulting over the seats to position myself a row lower, I release the spell. Glacial shards erupt from my hand and explode against the beast’s chest, the jagged ice spreading out into spikes, pinning it against the wall. The fiend roars, thrashing violently, the frost holding for only a moment before it shatters. Chunks of ice clatter to the floor as the beast shakes off the attack, glaring at me with renewed fury.

Its hide’s too damn tough.

“Derek!” Lulu’s sharp voice cuts through my frustration, drawing my attention upward. I glance at her and follow her gaze toward the entrances, where smaller fiends pour out in droves. While individually weaker, their sheer numbers threaten to overwhelm the remaining civilians.

The hulking fiend roars again, taking another step closer. Its massive weight causes the stairs to crack beneath it. My jaw tightens as I match its steps, backing away carefully while keeping my weapon raised.

If I can draw the big guy away, the others can handle the smaller ones. At least, I hope so. We just need time for Tidus and Wakka to get here.

I glance over my shoulder. “Keep Yuna safe!” I shout before turning my full focus on the fiend.

The beast bellows and charges, its powerful limbs pounding against the ground. I snap off three bolts of fire, each one bursting in its snarling maw, forcing it to focus solely on me. My boots hit the bottom steps as I land heavily, barely sparing a glance to ensure it’s following before I take off around the corner.

The sound of the fiend’s snarling breath fills the air behind me, but my feet skid to a halt as something—or rather, someone—stops me in my tracks.

A man stands in the middle of the path, unmoving. Civilians flee past him in a blur, yet he remains steady, like an immovable force. My eyes lock onto the unmistakable red haori that flutters gently behind him, catching the sunlight. The blade resting on his shoulder glints ominously, and the arm tucked into the fold of his haori gives him an air of calm readiness.

My breath catches. It’s him. It has to be.

The fiend’s rumbling growl reminds me of its presence, and I glance back as it descends the last of the stairs. It snarls, its glowing eyes now fixated on the man before me. Auron.

Without hesitation, the red warrior shifts his stance, shrugging his left arm free from his haori. The garment hangs off his shoulder, partially exposing his scarred back. His muscles ripple as he rests his now sleeveless arm on his front leg, the veins taut and pronounced.

The fiend lunges, its massive jaws snapping toward him. Auron takes a single, deliberate step back, just enough to evade the attack, before swinging his blade in a wide arc. The motion is fluid, almost effortless.

The sound of tearing flesh echoes as the fiend’s armored hide gives way under the force of his strike. The blade cuts deep, carving through its thick hide as though it were paper. The fiend stumbles, a guttural cry of pain escaping its maw before it collapses, the light in its eyes dimming.

Pyreflies rise from its fading form, glowing softly as they ascend into the sky.

I barely register the fiend’s departure, my focus entirely on the man now turning to face me. He regards me in silence, his expression hidden behind his sunglasses, yet there’s something about the way he tilts his head, the faint movement of his lips—curiosity, maybe? Recognition?

Before I can even form a coherent sentence, shouts from behind draw my attention. Tidus and Wakka come sprinting toward us, their weapons drawn but their faces alight with relief.

“Auron!” Tidus calls out, his voice filled with both awe and familiarity.

“Sir Auron!” Wakka follows, equally breathless.

The red warrior acknowledges them with the barest of glances, his gaze flicking back to me before settling on the two younger men. Tidus stares at him with wide eyes, his tone turning incredulous. “So… you do know him?”

“Yeah,” Wakka confirms, a mixture of pride and reverence in his voice. “Best guardian there ever was.”

My heart races as I process the scene unfolding before me. The faint scar over Auron’s right eye catches my attention, partially obscured by his sunglasses.

Before I can speak, a powerful gust of wind tears through the path, the force shoving me toward the group. I turn, squinting against the sudden rush of air, and spot the next wave of fiends emerging from the shadows.

The battle isn’t over yet.

The Garuda lands with a thunderous thud, its massive wings spreading out as it bellows a deafening screech. Twice as menacing as the lizard before, the creature’s body is lined with fur, sharp talons digging into the stone beneath it. Its razor-sharp teeth glint in the stadium's light, the creature’s red eyes locked on us with an eerie intelligence.

Shifting my blade into its gun form, I catch a flicker of movement beside me. Auron’s gaze drops briefly to my weapon, his expression unreadable behind the dark tint of his sunglasses. Ignoring the subtle scrutiny, I train my focus on the beast. There’s no time for distractions.

Tidus is the first to leap into action, charging forward with all the reckless energy he can muster. His agility is impressive as always, but the Garuda is quicker, pushing itself up into the air to avoid his strike. It descends with terrifying speed, claws extended, aiming directly for him.

The ace manages to deflect the attack, but not without consequence. “Agh!” he grunts, stumbling back as he clutches his arm.

Wakka, ever reliable, channels energy into his blitzball, dark magic swirling around the sphere. With a powerful throw, he strikes the Garuda square in the face, a cloud of darkness enveloping the beast and momentarily blinding it.

I reach out instinctively, a faint white light emanating from my fingertips as it hones in on Tidus. The boy’s injuries mend quickly, and I bark, “Be more careful, kid—”

“I know, I know!” he snaps back, though his impatience barely hides his gratitude.

A low, gruff chuckle rumbles beside me. Auron steps forward, his massive blade resting on his shoulder. Without a word, his free hand moves in a deliberate gesture, summoning a glowing red aura that swirls around him. In the blink of an eye, the warrior closes the distance with an unnatural speed, faster than anyone carrying such a heavy weapon should be able to move. His blade arcs through the air, cutting into the Garuda with devastating precision. A burst of crimson energy seeps into the fiend’s body, and the creature stumbles as its wings grow sluggish, flapping lazily under the weight of the attack.

Refusing to waste the opportunity, ripples of electricity travel down my arm and into my gunblade. With practiced precision, I fire two bolts of charged magic into the creature’s chest, stunning it further. Not letting up, I dash forward and shift my weapon into blade form. Leaping from a ledge, I dive headfirst toward the Garuda. Two clean slices carve through its body before I kick off its chest, landing in a crouch a safe distance away.

The beast lets out one final cry before collapsing backward, its massive form going limp. It slides off the edge of the platform and disappears from sight, the sound of its impact faintly echoing from below.

Breathing heavily, I turn to the others.

“Yuna, where is she?” Auron’s deep voice cuts through the tension.

I hesitate, glancing briefly at Wakka, who nods at me. “I left her with two other guardians,” I reply. “I had to draw the big one away to even the odds.”

Auron remains impassive, his face unreadable. Even with his eyes obscured by sunglasses, his posture radiates authority. After a moment, he nods curtly. “Lead us to her.”

Without question, I turn on my heel and begin moving up the stairs. We don’t get far. A group of smaller fiends stumbles down the steps, snarling and snapping as they block our path. Behind us, the ominous shadow of another Garuda descends from the sky, cutting off our escape.

“Give me a break!” Tidus groans, his exasperation mirroring my own.

“Shit…” I mutter under my breath, raising my weapon.

“We push through!” Auron’s voice is steady, his blade slung effortlessly onto his shoulder.

Before we can act, the sky darkens, and a massive anchor descends from an ominous portal that materializes above the stadium. It crashes into the central podium, not with destruction but with purpose, sinking into the ground like molten metal. Chains rattle and move in reverse, dragging up a disfigured idol—a cocoon-like monstrosity wrapped in layers of bindings.

An ear-piercing screech tears through the air, silencing everything. Civilians, fiends, and guardians alike freeze, their attention drawn to the grotesque figure. Its single exposed eye bleeds before a brilliant light begins to swirl and condense within the socket.

The light erupts outward, vaporizing a nearby fiend in an instant. The idol moves with terrifying precision, eliminating the other fiends with ease. Pyreflies scatter into the air, the fiends disappearing in clusters. I stand frozen, watching in equal parts horror and awe as the monstrous entity clears the battlefield with ruthless efficiency.

Auron sheathes his blade before silently slipping his haori back into place. The shoulder guard sits comfortably while he looks at me expectantly. I blink when I realize I’ve been staring. Feeling my own ears grow warm, I clear my throat and slip past him up the stairs.

Turning the corner, Kimahri, Lulu, and Yuna remain safe and unharmed, standing alert several flights up. Yuna doesn’t even seem to notice our arrival as she watches entranced by the giant, assumedly benevolent, creature.

“Thank goodness for Maester Seymour,” the black mage mumbles as she turns to us.

Frowning, “Maester Seymour? You mean he summoned that… thing?”

“It’s an aeon…” Lulu’s voice is barely above a whisper, her arms dropping to her sides as she stares.

I turn to her, my frown deepening. “An aeon? I thought only summoners had aeons.”

“They do,” she replies, her voice distant. “But… I suppose even Maester Seymour has his own story.”

The idol begins to fade as Seymour dismisses it, the maester turning and vanishing from sight. The black mage straightens, her eyes shifting past me. She peers over my shoulder with sudden interest, her expression unreadable.

I follow her gaze just in time to see the red tail of Auron’s haori disappearing around the corner, Tidus trailing closely behind.

“Is that—?” Lulu begins, but I nod before she can finish.

“Yeah. That’s the guardian Yuna told me about… Auron. Turns out he was in Luca all along. He helped me deal with the big guy.” I purse my lips, my eyes lingering on the direction they left. “Wonder where they’re off to…”

Wakka scratches his head, shrugging. “Probably catching up. Still can’t believe he knows Sir Auron.” He sighs before turning back to me. “I gotta get back to the Aurochs… say goodbye, y’know? I’ll meet you guys at the steps near Luca’s entrance.”

“Sure,” I reply with a small smile. “And Wakka?”

“Yeah?” He pauses mid-step.

“Congrats on the game.”

For a moment, Wakka looks genuinely taken aback, his face slackening. But then his eyes crinkle, and a wide grin spreads across his face.

“Thanks!”

Chapter Text

The cold metal seeps into my sleeves as I lean forward, taking in the sprawling view of Luca. Sunlight dances across the rippling waters in the distance, the city below still buzzing with life and energy from the day’s events. A gentle breeze rises from the sea, carrying with it the salty tang of the ocean and the faint sounds of distant conversation.

Leaning back against the rails, I glance over as Wakka approaches, his steps unhurried but heavy with thought. There’s a smile on his face, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Are you sure?” Yuna asks softly, her hands clasped in front of her.

“Never liked long goodbyes anyway,” he replies, waving it off as if trying to ease the weight of his own decision. He scratches the back of his head, pausing briefly before speaking again. “Sorry for makin’ you wait, Yuna. I had some promises to keep, ya? But from now on, I’m your full-time guardian.”

The summoner’s smile is warm, tinged with gratitude. “Then… welcome back, Sir Wakka.” She bows formally before adding, “Good to have you with us.”

“Hey, hey now,” Wakka chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s good to be back, ya?”

“So, any news on what happened?” he asks, glancing between Lulu and me.

Sighing, I shake my head as Lulu answers, her tone measured but laced with concern. “Actually, no. No one seems to know where they came from. The fiends… they appeared out of nowhere. There’s no clue what drew them to the stadium. Maester Mika is safe, thanks to Maester Seymour.”

“Maester Seymour’s aeon,” Yuna murmurs, almost to herself. “It was so powerful.”

Horrifying is more like it.

“What you said before…” I push off the railings, crossing my arms as I turn toward Lulu. “He must’ve done the pilgrimage, right? How else would he have gotten an aeon like that?”

The black mage frowns slightly, brushing her braids aside. “It’s possible. Though I’ve heard nothing about Maester Seymour attempting the road. If he did… he must have failed the pilgrimage.”

“Failed? How does a summoner fail it?” I ask, my curiosity outweighing my unease.

The air grows heavy for a moment before Wakka steps in to answer. “It’s actually not uncommon, ya? A summoner fails when they abandon the path. It happens more often than you’d think.”

Lulu nods solemnly. “Father Zuke, the last summoner Wakka and I guarded, made it to the Calm Lands… but he chose to stop there.”

“The Calm Lands…” I echo thoughtfully. “What is it about that place?”

Yuna’s voice softens as she explains, her gaze drifting out over the city. “The Calm Lands was once a great battleground against Sin. High Summoner Gandof defeated Sin there almost four hundred years ago and brought us the Calm. But for many summoners, it’s a place where doubt begins to set in.”

Wakka sighs deeply. “Seein’ a place like that… all that land, all that death. It’s enough to make anyone wanna give up, ya?”

The conversation fades into silence. Kimahri’s ears twitch as his tail sways behind him, his attention shifting toward the small bridge ahead. The subtle change in the Ronso’s stance draws my gaze, and I spot two figures approaching.

“They are here,” Kimahri grunts, his voice low but certain.

Yuna straightens, her expression lighting up with both excitement and trepidation. “Oh!”

“Woah…” Wakka whispers, his voice a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Auron strides toward us, his red haori blunt and unapologetic, with Tidus trailing behind him, head bowed and shoulders slumped. There’s a weight in the ace’s steps that doesn’t match his usual energy.

“Sir Auron?” Yuna’s voice is meek as she addresses the red warrior.

Lulu, Yuna, and Wakka immediately bow in unison, a respectful prayer for a man they clearly revere. Meanwhile, I remain rooted in place, observing. Auron’s presence commands attention, the weight of his experience palpable even from a distance.

His gaze shifts, and for the first time, I meet the piercing warmth of his amber eye. The black tint of his glasses sits low on his nose, leaving his scarred eye hidden in shadow. There’s something unyielding in the way he regards me, as though he’s sizing me up without a word. Self-consciously, I cross my arms, feeling heat creep up my neck under his silent scrutiny.

Tidus fidgets awkwardly, his gaze fixed on the ground. He nudges a rock with his foot, muttering something under his breath.

“Yuna,” Auron’s gravelly voice finally cuts through the moment.

The summoner jumps slightly before responding, “S-sir?”

“I wish to become your guardian. Do you accept?”

The words hang in the air like a dropped bomb. My eyes widen, and I feel my mouth open slightly in disbelief. The stoic warrior’s gaze flicks back to me, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if amused by my reaction.

“You’re serious?” Wakka blurts out, his tone filled with awe.

Auron tilts his head, his expression unreadable. “You refuse?”

“No, no! We accept, right, everyone?” Yuna turns to us, her voice rising with hope.

“O-of course! No problem at all!” Wakka nods vigorously, his excitement evident.

Lulu, however, narrows her eyes, her tone cautious. “But… why?”

The smirk vanishes from Auron’s lips, replaced by an almost solemn expression. “I promised Braska.”

The mention of her father draws Yuna’s breath, her hands tightening at her sides. “You promised… my father?”

Auron nods, his voice steady. “Yes.”

“Thank you, Sir Auron! You’re welcome to join us!” Yuna bows deeply, her gratitude unmistakable.

“And… he comes too.” Without missing a beat, Auron grabs Tidus by the arm and hauls him forward.

The blonde stumbles awkwardly, his face red with embarrassment. “Uh… hi. Howdy?” He attempts a wave, his voice cracking under the weight of everyone’s gaze.

“This one, I promised Jecht,” Auron states simply.

Yuna’s face lights up, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Sir Jecht? Is he alive?”

Auron exchanges a brief, meaningful glance with Tidus before replying, “Can’t say. Haven’t seen him in ten years.”

The summoner’s excitement dims slightly, but she nods. “I see…”

“You’ll meet eventually,” Auron says with certainty, ending the topic there.

Yuna’s smile returns. “I look forward to it.”

The red warrior steps forward, his gaze scanning each of us before landing on me. “What’s our itinerary?”

-

The sound of boots on stone pulls my attention. Auron approaches after the brief introductions with the others, his stride measured with purpose. His gaze lands on me, and for a moment, I feel pinned in place. He moves with the kind of presence that seems to command the space around him, and I can’t help but straighten as he draws closer.

Wakka and Lulu linger near the base of the stairs leading out of the city, while Kimahri remains stationed closer to Yuna and Tidus. The summoner and the ace stand near the rail, their voices soft as they converse privately. I shift my focus back to Auron as he stops a short distance away, his singular amber eye catching the light beneath the dark tint of his sunglasses.

“And you…” His gravelly voice cuts through the background noise effortlessly. “What’s your story?”

I arch a brow, one arm fiddles with a button on my vest while the other rests on my hip. “Not from around here,” I reply evenly.

“Hm…” His gaze briefly drops to the weapon sheathed at my lower back. “I gathered.”

“Not from this world, I mean,” I clarify, watching his expression carefully.

There’s a flicker of acknowledgment as he looks back at me. “Gathered that too.” His voice is steady.

My lips twitch into a small smile. “Yeah? How’d you figure?”

“The boy told me,” he says matter-of-factly.

A laugh escapes me at his honesty. “Ah...”

“You’re hoping to find a way back home,” he continues, his tone low and almost contemplative. “Through Sin?”

I nod slowly, my expression shifting. “That’s the hope.”

Auron is quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting toward Yuna and Tidus in the distance. “I’m sorry.”

The words catch me off guard. My brow furrows as I tilt my head in question. “Sorry? For what?”

“That you were dragged into Spira.” He scratches his chin thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “The change… must have been difficult.”

I shrug lightly, letting out a soft breath. “It’s not all bad. Landed with some good people. Learned magic, how to fight. I survived.”

He turns slightly, as if about to say something, but I cut him off with a quiet, “There’s a good chance I’ll be stuck here, I’ve made my peace with it.”

Auron regards me silently, his eye searching mine. Whatever he’s looking for, he seems to find it, as his expression softens slightly. The faintest smirk tugs at the corner of his lips before he turns away, tucking his chin into the high collar. He readjusts it like a habit.

He’s taller than me by an inch or two, and as he stands beside me, I find myself studying his profile—the rugged lines of his face, the faint scar running across his closed eye. There’s an air of weight to him, a quiet strength that feels almost tangible.

A sudden sharp whistle breaks the moment.

My head snaps toward Yuna and Tidus. The summoner demonstrates her new talent, and Tidus claps in exaggerated praise. Auron chuckles softly beside me, the sound low and gruff, as I shake my head with an amused smile. Turning, I lower myself onto the bench behind me, resting my elbows on my knees.

“How do you know Tidus?” I ask, glancing up at him. “He seems to know you pretty well.”

Auron’s gaze shifts briefly to the empty space beside me, but he remains standing. “I watched over him for the last ten years,” he says simply. “He was… a handful.”

My brows rise at that. “Wait… that’s where you’ve been? All this time?”

The monk’s posture stiffens slightly, his gaze narrowing as if I’ve stumbled onto something I shouldn’t have. He diverts his full attention back to me, and I hold his line of sight, waiting for his response.

“When I first came here,” I began carefully, “Yuna told me about her father and his guardians. She called you a legend—‘the best guardian there ever was,’ after Sin was defeated.” I glance toward Wakka, who’s thankfully out of earshot, before turning back. “You’ve been to Zanarkand… his Zanarkand?”

Auron doesn’t answer, his silence speaking volumes. After a long pause, I exhale quietly. “… You don’t want people to know that, huh?”

His only response is a low grunt as he finally lowers himself onto the bench beside me. The haori shifts as he sits, the red fabric pooling around him like liquid fire. “It is… difficult to explain,” he says at last. “His father asked me to watch over him. It was a promise I intended to keep.”

I recall his earlier words to Yuna. “Along with a promise you made to Braska, huh? To take part in her pilgrimage?”

I’m starting to understand that silence is an answer when it comes to him.

Leaning forward, I rest my forearms on my knees. “I’m not going to get much out of you, am I?”

The monk huffs out a small laugh, his voice laced with dry humor. “No. But I suppose you’ll try.”

A wry smile crosses my face. “Count on it.”

I seize the opportunity to press further, asking questions in quick succession. “How did you, Braska, and Jecht defeat Sin?”

“The aeons Braska gathered were… necessary,” Auron answers after a pause.

“Why does Sin always come back?”

His silence lingers longer this time.

“… Is Jecht really alive?”

“Yes.”

I blink, caught off guard by the unexpected honesty. “How do you get to Zanarkand?”

“We will reach it at the end of the pilgrimage.”

“You know what I mean,” I press, narrowing my eyes slightly. “The Zanarkand he talks about.”

“… He shouldn’t be talking about it.”

“You know more than you’re letting on. Why the secrecy?”

Auron clasps his hands loosely, leaning forward again. His voice is steady but laced with an edge of finality. “This is their story. Yours as well. The choices, your decisions, should be made of your own free will. These ‘secrets’ of mine… will be made known to all of you throughout the journey. I am only here to provide assistance.”

His words strike a chord. I find myself softening, my gaze drifting down. “You make it sound like that’s your only purpose.”

He doesn’t respond, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. It’s contemplative. Before either of us can say more, a sudden burst of laughter erupts in the distance.

“AHHAHAHAHAHA!”

I whip my head around, startled, as Tidus laughs hysterically toward the sky. Yuna stands beside him, her face red with embarrassment before she eventually joins in, their forced laughter filling the quiet. I blink, unsure whether to intervene or let it play out. Auron remains seated beside me, unmoving, but I catch the faintest twitch of his lips, as if suppressing a smile.

The laughter morphs into something genuine, echoing across the empty space. Slowly, a small smile of my own forms as I lean back, letting the sound wash over me.

Laughing in the face of their troubles.

The thought lingers in my mind, settling like the soft breeze that drifts through the air. Auron rises beside me, his movement quiet and smooth. He doesn’t move further, standing in place as if waiting. Glancing up at him, I caught his eye for a moment. His gaze holds steady, silently watching me with an intensity I can’t quite place. Pushing off the bench, I rise to join the others. Auron follows, his presence a constant weight at my back.

We step into the group’s gathered energy, still charged with the remnants of Tidus and Yuna’s peculiar outburst. Wakka and Lulu exchange looks, bewildered expressions etched across their faces. Kimahri casts a brief glance toward Auron and me, his sharp gaze flicking between us before turning back to the summoner. His tail swishes subtly, betraying a flicker of unease—or maybe just resignation.

Not the only one thinking they’ve gone crazy, I guess. A quiet snort escapes me.

The young couple finally settles down, the echoes of their shared laughter fading into the open space. Tidus, looking sheepish but far too stubborn to admit it, puffs out his chest, masking any embarrassment with bravado. His gaze flicks to the group, and with an exaggerated huff, he demands, “What’re you looking at?”

Wakka scratches the back of his head, his easy grin slipping into a laugh. “We were just worried you guys might’ve gone crazy, ya?”

The summoner steps forward, her cheeks still flushed pink as she clasps her hands in front of her. “Sorry!” she says quickly, bowing her head slightly in apology. Her voice softens as her gaze sweeps across the group, lingering on each of us in turn. “Well then, alright. Now, we will go to the temple at Djose.”

There’s a slight pause, and then Yuna tilts her head, offering us a radiant smile that seems to brighten the very air around her. “And guardians? Don’t forget to smile!”

Her words catch me off guard, pulling a small laugh from my chest before I can stop it. The sheer sincerity in her tone feels almost out of place, but it’s undeniably Yuna—kind, unwavering, and always hopeful. I glance at Auron, expecting some reaction, but he remains stoic, his gaze fixed ahead.

Wakka lets out a loud chuckle, breaking the moment with his characteristic cheer. “Alright, alright, ya? Don’t need to tell me twice!” He stretches his arms above his head, his grin wide and unbothered.

Lulu, on the other hand, crosses her arms, her expression skeptical yet softened by a hint of amusement. “We’ll see how much smiling there is when we get to the temple,” she murmurs, though there’s no malice in her tone.

Tidus rolls his shoulders, flashing his usual confident grin. “Easy! With me around, this pilgrimage is gonna be a breeze.”

-

At the top of the flight of stairs, a long dirt road stretches ahead, winding its way across a vast plain dotted with scattered ruins. The wind carries faint whispers from the tall grass, bending and swaying in an almost hypnotic rhythm. A few feet away, a tall statue looms, striking in its detail. Adorned with samurai gear and a single sode on its left arm, the figure is frozen mid-action, its massive blade embedded into the form of a monstrous beast.

Tidus approaches the statue, curiosity drawing him closer, while Yuna trails a step behind, her gaze fixed on the intricate craftsmanship.

An elderly man stands before the statue, his posture reverent as he observes it up close. Without warning, he speaks, his tone reminiscent of a storyteller lost in his own narrative.

“This is a statue of Lord Mi'ihen,” he begins, his voice steady. “Eight centuries ago, he founded a legion known today as the Crusaders. In just a few short years after their founding, their ranks grew throughout Spira. The maesters of Yevon feared an uprising and accused them of rebellion. So Lord Mi’ihen walked along this very road to face their charges and refute them. He succeeded in winning the maesters’ trust, and his legion became an arm of the Yevon clergy. It was then that Yevon gave them the name ‘Crusaders,’ which they have kept ever since. And the rest is history.”

“Ah-... thanks?” Tidus scratches his head, glancing at Yuna, who offers him a helpless shrug.

The road ahead is busy with civilians, their steps purposeful as they traverse the plain. Many pause to greet Yuna, offering prayers and well-wishes for safe passage. I catch their smiles, small and fleeting but genuine, directed at her with quiet respect.

The tall grass on either side of the path brushes against the wind, creating an undercurrent of sound that keeps me alert. Fiends could easily use the cover to their advantage. Striding closer to the group, I can’t shake the feeling of eyes on me. A glance to my left confirms it—Lulu has matched my pace, her gaze thoughtful as she studies me.

“Yes?” I ask, quirking a brow.

“Hm...” She hums softly, her voice just above a whisper. “Did you learn anything?”

My eyes instinctively flick toward Auron. He walks steadily alongside Tidus and Yuna, who chat animatedly, oblivious to everything around them.

“Not really,” I admit, shaking my head.

Lulu’s gaze sharpens slightly, her expression unreadable. “Hmph… vague, then?”

A dry laugh escapes me. “Seriously vague. He knows a lot more than he lets on. And trust me, he knows that I know that.”

The black mage hums thoughtfully, her gaze drifting back to the path ahead. “Well, I suppose he can keep his secrets. He was a friend to Yuna’s father and is a legendary guardian, after all… I doubt there’s any ill intention there. And what of the boy? How do they know each other?”

Her question lingers, but I say nothing. A fragment of Auron’s words echoes in my mind: You don’t want people to know that, huh?

“He wouldn’t answer that either,” I finally muttered, keeping my voice low.

Lulu’s lips press into a line, but she doesn’t push further. The conversation falls away as the sound of rustling grass pulls our attention.

“Woah! Watch out!” Wakka’s voice cuts through the calm as a fiend scuttles out from the fields. Its grotesque form emerges, claws scraping against the dirt. Tidus, eager as ever, steps forward, gripping Chappu’s sword with both hands as he takes a stance.

Auron moves in just as quickly, his arm slipping free from his haori as his nodachi rests easily on his shoulder.

Wakka joins the fray, positioning himself to intercept. Standing back with Yuna, Lulu, and Kimahri, I keep my weapon sheathed for now. It’s a single fiend—manageable enough for them, but I remain watchful for reinforcements.

“Hah! That one looks slow,” Tidus quips, a cocky smirk on his face as he rushes forward.

“It’s also tough,” Auron grunts. “Let me handle this.”

“No way! I can take it!” Tidus charges in, his blade slicing through the air—only to be stopped cold by the fiend’s tough shell. It flings the boy back and he stumbles to catch himself, managing to stay upright.

“W-what the...?”

Auron harrumphs, stepping forward. With a single, deliberate swing, his blade cuts clean through the fiend’s defenses, cleaving it effortlessly. The creature collapses, its pyreflies dispersing into the sky before its body even hits the ground.

“Told ya! Sir Auron’s the best!” Wakka laughs, grinning broadly.

Tidus, however, fumes. “Hmph, I could’ve done that. What are you showing off for, old man?”

Auron says nothing, his only response a small, knowing smirk as he sheathes his blade and pulls his haori back into place.

I can’t help but chuckle at the display. “You’re going to make this pilgrimage a walk in the park.”

The red warrior turns his head fully toward me, his expression startled before quickly turning unreadable. “I won’t be able to fight all your battles for you.”

The weight of his words lingers, but I can’t resist. “But you’ll fight most of them for me, won’t you? Big strong man like you.” I smirk sweetly, my voice laced with playfulness.

The effect is immediate. Wakka coughs into his hand, clearly trying to stifle his embarrassment, while Lulu watches with amused curiosity. Yuna gasps softly, her gaze darting between us, and Tidus scowls, clearly caught between confusion and annoyance.

Auron’s furrowed brow relaxes ever so slightly, and for the briefest moment, surprise flickers across his features. He blinks at me once, twice, as if recalibrating. Then, just as quickly, his expression shifts. “Make sure you stay close, then,” he says gruffly, his voice steady but with an edge I can’t quite place.

My head spins sharply, caught entirely off guard. I hadn’t expected a response—least of all that response.

Auron adjusts his glasses, his demeanor as unshakable as ever, before gesturing forward, like some sort of gentleman. The subtle command leaves me no room for rebuttal, and I find myself walking ahead, my thoughts reeling. Along with a certain warmth settling in my stomach.

Huh.

-

The uneven dirt road stretches on as we tread forward, dispatching fiends that cross our path. With so many of us working in sync, the battles are more of a nuisance than a true challenge. By the fifth encounter, the sheer ease of it draws a gruff observation from Auron.

“Traveling with Braska and Jecht, it wasn’t like this. Fewer hands made the fights... challenging.”

Yuna listens attentively, her eyes wide with curiosity as she nods along. “It must’ve been difficult,” she offers gently, her voice full of quiet admiration. She then goes on to explain the number of her guardians to the veteran.

The monk shakes his head slightly, interrupting her. “This is your journey. Who you take along is your choice alone.”

A tall, weathered spire, partially buried in the earth, catches Tidus’ attention. He stops mid-step, craning his neck to take in its cracked, ancient surface.

“Do you know what those ruins are from?” The old man from earlier, Maechen, appears seemingly out of thin air. His approach is so casual it’s almost unsettling.

“Some old city?” Tidus answers, crossing his arms. Yuna stands next to him as they listen to another story.

“Correct,” he says, as if the blonde’s question was a quiz he’d been waiting to answer. “A city most ancient. A terrible testament to Sin’s power.”

Leaning over toward Wakka, I mutter, “Is he stalking us?”

The orange-haired man snickers but doesn’t answer.

Maechen continues, unfazed. “Compared to Sin, humans are mere mud puppies.”

“Uh… mud… puppies?” I whisper, glancing at the others. Auron tilts his head in vague agreement, while Yuna shakes hers softly, a trace of amusement in her expression.

“But I believe humans are the only ones capable of defeating Sin,” Yuna replies with quiet determination.

Maechen’s weathered face softens. “A good reply. I am relieved to hear you say that, m’lady summoner.” With a slight bow, he introduces himself. “Where are my manners? I am Maechen, a scholar. At your service, m’lady.”

The pleasantries are interrupted by a ground-shaking roar. A massive, two-horned fiend bursts from the tall grass, its presence immediately commanding attention. The beast charges after a lone traveler who cries out for help, their voice breaking as they’re thrown violently across the ground. The sound of bones snapping sends a cold chill through the air.

“Somebody! Please help!” the traveler pleads weakly.

Without hesitation, Yuna steps forward. “Everyone! Please, let me handle this.”

The group holds back as the summoner spins her staff, drawing flames that dance in her hands. The fire grows and merges into the earth, cracking it open and revealing glowing molten veins. A sigil of light appears at her feet as the ground splits, and from its depths, Ifrit emerges. The aeon’s arrival is as fiery as its form—towering, blazing with power, and radiating heat that makes the air shimmer.

While the others watch Yuna command her aeon, I find my attention drawn elsewhere. Behind us, Maechen kneels beside the injured traveler, his hands glowing faintly with weak healing magic. Auron stands near them, his brow furrowed as he observes. I jog over, kneeling opposite the monk.

“His wounds are too severe,” Auron says quietly, shaking his head. “A spell won’t be enough.”

I ignore him, placing my hand firmly on the man’s chest. “Don’t stop,” I tell Maechen.

“Derek,” Auron’s tone sharpens, “it won’t make a difference.”

“Yes, it will,” I bite back, focusing on the injured man’s ragged breaths. His chest shudders as blood fills his mouth.

This has only been a theory. But now… I don’t have a choice. I have to try.

The ripple of magic flows through my arm, familiar but demanding. The world around me begins to distort as I reach for the feeling I’ve only touched once before—the excruciating pull of time itself. The ambient sounds fade, and the air around us thickens. My vision tunnels as the sigil of a clock appears faintly beneath the man’s body, its hands frozen before they stutter and jerk backward.

I push against the limits of my ability, willing the clock to reverse. The air ripples and warps, a faint shimmer in the space encircling us. Pain explodes up my arm, climbing like fire into my neck and behind my eyes. My pulse pounds against my temples as magic is ripped from me in waves.

“Derek!” Auron’s voice cuts through the haze, but it sounds muffled, distant.

The distortion grows, bending light and color around the man’s injuries. Time itself seems to fragment—brief, flickering glimpses of his wounds unhealing, then healing again, like a film reel stuck in a loop. My vision blurs, the taste of blood flooding my mouth as I feel a warm trickle from my nose.

Auron’s gloved hand grips the back of my neck, anchoring me. His voice is firmer this time. “You need to stop.”

“I-it’s working!” Maechen gasps, his voice trembling between awe and disbelief.

The traveler takes a deep, clear breath, his eyes fluttering open as the blood pooling in his mouth vanishes. Gashes and broken bones knit themselves together in an instant. Then, just as suddenly, the connection snaps. My hand is ripped away, severing the magic. The distortion collapses, leaving the air eerily still.

I collapse sideways, Auron steadying me as the world comes rushing back. My skull feels like it’s splitting in two, and I groan, struggling to catch my breath.

“Derek! Are you alright?” Yuna kneels in front of me, concern etched into her face. I barely register that the battle had ended and the group gathered around my weakened form.

“Just… quiet,” I croak, squeezing my eyes shut against the pounding in my head.

The injured man lies motionless now, his injuries reduced to minor bruises. Yuna rushes over to Maechen to work together to heal what’s left, but I can tell they’re puzzled—what was fatal only moments ago has somehow been undone.

Lulu folds her arms, her sharp eyes fixed on me. “What happened? You’ve never looked this bad after using magic. Even when stopping time.”

I sit up shakily, leaning heavily on Auron, who doesn’t let go until I’ve found my balance. “I didn’t stop time,” I admit hoarsely. “I reversed it.”

The black mage blinks, her expression briefly breaking. “Reversed it?” Her voice is soft, disbelieving. “That’s… impossible. The consequence of altering a law that grand-”

“His life.”

I don’t grace his statement with an answer, silently wiping blood from my face. My hand still tingles, numb and heavy. I glanced up at the monk as he stared me down.

“You don’t know that.” I responded firmly.

“I know what death looks like. You were standing at its door.” His gaze hardens.

“That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think? Look, I’m fine.” I deflect, Auron’s jaw clicks as his frown seems to grow.

Yuna approaches, relief written on her face. “He will be alright…” she shifts and eyes me worriedly.

Wakka scratches his head before perking up, “wait… so did it work? Whatever Derek did?”

The summoner is quiet then, “I was sure his injuries were too severe. I also thought… he wasn’t going to make it. But… he only has scrapes and bruises, I just finished healing them. In fact, it doesn’t look like he was attacked at all.”

“Woah… so you’ve got a whole bag of tricks!” Tidus nudges me excitedly. I shove the kid back.

“Well, glad it all worked out.” Auron rises with me but his jaw remains clenched. “I… might need to sit out on the next few battles. Just saying.”

The group leaves it at that. Maechen promises to remain with the man until he wakes, and we bid him farewell. All except Auron at least. I maintain obliviousness to his piercing stare as I refuse to meet his eyes.

We walk along the path, and as promised, I stay out of the next few battles. I keep the fact that I can barely feel my arm to myself.

Chapter Text

The rhythmic clinks of metal stir my focus as three Chocobos and their riders emerge over the crest of the hill, their golden feathers gleaming in the sun. The lead rider, a woman with sharp, authoritative features and dark red hair tucked beneath a deep purple bandana, reins her mount to a halt before our group. Her armor glints faintly in the light, matching her polished demeanor.

“Lady Summoner, I presume?” Her voice is steady but holds a quiet respect as her eyes sweep over the group, briefly pausing on each of us in turn.

Yuna steps forward gracefully, her hands folded in front of her. She bows politely before answering. “Yes, I am Yuna.”

“I am Lucil, captain of the Djose Chocobo Knights,” the woman introduces herself. Her tone is even, professional, yet there’s a subtle warmth in her gaze.

The second rider, a younger woman clad in red armor with a cheerful smile, chimes in eagerly, “And I’m Elma. We’ve been charged to guard the Highroad.”

Lucil nods toward Yuna, her voice remaining measured. “There have been reports of a large fiend appearing in this area, with a taste for chocobos. Do take care, Summoner Yuna, if you are to rent any chocobos.”

Yuna smiles softly, her gratitude evident as she clasps her hands and offers a proper Yevonite bow. “Thank you. We will be careful.”

Lucil acknowledges Yuna’s gesture with a slight tilt of her head. “Good. We should get back to our rounds. Farewell.” With that, she guides her Chocobo into motion, the powerful bird stepping in perfect rhythm as she leads past us.

As they move away, Elma glances back and flashes a bright smile. “Our prayers are with you,” she says earnestly before turning forward, her Chocobo trotting along behind Lucil.

The duo disappears down the path, their armor gleaming in the sunlight until they blend into the rolling expanse of the Highroad. For a moment, their warning hangs in the air, the subtle tension it brings settling over us like a veil.

The feathered tails of the Chocobos sway rhythmically as they disappear into the distance, their riders now just a blur against the horizon. Tidus watches them go, mumbling to himself with growing determination. “A large fiend, huh… Let’s go get him!”

Auron grimaces, his expression twisting slightly before he responds, his voice low and unimpressed. “Why?”

Tidus spins around, arms wide in exasperation. “It’s the right thing to do!”

The older man regards him for a moment, and then, to everyone’s surprise, a chuckle rumbles out of his chest. It’s low and faint at first, but unmistakable. “It’s the right thing to do…” he murmurs to himself, the amusement evident in his tone.

“What’d I say now?” Tidus whines, throwing his hands behind his head in annoyance as his eyes narrow at the monk.

Auron’s gaze shifts, his voice quieter now, laced with memory. “… Jecht said that a lot, too.”

Tidus scoffs at the mention of his father, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as though bracing himself for whatever’s coming.

Auron doesn’t seem to notice—or care. He continues, almost lost in thought. “And every time he said it, it meant trouble for Braska and me.”

His voice trails off, and a distant look settles over his face. His sunglasses slide slightly down the bridge of his nose, revealing a glimmer of something unreadable in his eyes. The chuckle fades, but its echo lingers in the quiet air.

Tidus huffs, rolling his eyes dramatically, his disgruntled energy palpable. Auron, however, remains quiet, his mind still seemingly tethered to the past.

With a small shake of his head, the older man sobers, straightening his posture and pulling himself back to the present. His features regain their stoic sharpness as he adjusts his collar, but the ghost of his laugh lingers in the air.

Without another word, the group resumes its pace, the tension lightened by Tidus’s exaggerated grumbles as we press onward along the Highroad.

—

I trudge along, my boots scraping lightly against the dirt road as I drift towards the back of the group, the rhythmic thud of my footsteps a comforting distraction from the dull ache in my body. My arm swings idly by my side, testing its range of motion with a subtle, almost imperceptible stretch. The feeling is coming back… slowly… but the weight in my wrist still lingers, a dull reminder of the cost.

Absently, I rub circles into the tender skin of my wrist, a habit I’ve fallen into without thinking. My thoughts are a scattered mess, too tired to hold onto any one thing for long. It’s then that I feel the sudden press of warmth beside me, a tanned arm wrapping around my shoulders with a casual familiarity. 

I blink in surprise, my stomach giving a quick lurch before I glance up. There’s Wakka, towering over me with his usual characteristic grin, his bright orange hair catching the sunlight and lighting up his whole face.

“You alright?” His voice is light, but his gaze carries an edge of concern, sharp and direct.

A weight seems to fall off my shoulders at the sight of him, and instinctively, I lean slightly toward his warmth, a quiet sense of comfort in the quiet way he stands beside me. My pace slows as my muscles loosen just a fraction under the unexpected ease of his presence.

“I’m fine, Wakka.” I mumble, the words feeling almost too simple to explain the mess in my head.

“Hmm...” he hums playfully, his tone dipping into a teasing singsong.

Without missing a beat, I elbow him in the ribs. His body jerks with the surprise of it, but he bursts out laughing, shifting away just enough to give me space—though his hand still lingers, brushing over the nape of my neck before slipping past. Even when he moves, he doesn’t fully let go, his touch warm and persistent. I catch his eyes, and for a brief second, there’s a flash of something there—something unspoken, something that doesn’t quite belong. A flicker of worry, almost hidden behind the easygoing mask he wears.

Sighing, I drop my gaze to the road ahead and give in, my voice quieter now. “Arm’s a little numb, that’s all.”

Wakka nods, his gaze sharpening with a quiet concern that’s hard to ignore. “That was somethin’ crazy you did back there, ya? Even Lu was surprised…”

I can feel him watching me, but I keep my eyes forward, my pace slow and steady as I drag myself back into the present. The others are talking among themselves up ahead, but the distance feels wider than usual.

“Turning back time... Who knew…” he mutters, almost to himself, the words trailing off with an odd, unfinished thought.

I glance sideways at him, my brow furrowing slightly. “Spit it out, Wakka.”

He opens his mouth as though to speak but pauses, words stuck on his tongue. I catch the awkward way he shifts, his pace faltering as he struggles with something unspoken. The longer it goes, the more it feels like he’s trying to piece together something that doesn’t quite fit. 

“Wakka?” I prompt, my voice gentle but insistent.

He exhales a soft breath, his voice suddenly quiet and hesitant, as though the words weigh too heavily on him. “...You think... if you tried, would you be able to go back? Y’know… to the past?”

The question hangs in the air between us, sharp and raw. My steps falter for a moment, and I stop completely, my body freezing with the weight of the sudden tension. Wakka keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the ground, his broad frame looking strangely small in that moment. Despite his height, despite the strength he carries, there’s a vulnerability in the way he stands now that I’ve never seen before.

“Wakka…” I begin, my voice soft but heavy with something I can’t place. “A few seconds had me reeling. I don’t think—”

Before I can finish, Wakka scratches the back of his head, his face shifting between expressions too fast for me to track. There’s an awkward laugh that follows, forced and too loud. He puffs his chest out, resting his fists on his hips with a feigned bravado, but the smile he flashes is weak—nothing like the usual confident grin he wears.

“Ah… it was a stupid question,” he says quickly, waving it off like it means nothing. “Forget I said anything!”

He pats my shoulder, a rough gesture meant to brush away the moment. He starts to walk off, but I reach out, my fingers curling around his arm, pulling him back with just enough force to halt him, he turns to me slowly. 

“You want me to go back… and save Chappu...?” The words come out almost as a whisper, barely above the hum of the wind.

For a moment, Wakka doesn’t answer, his expression falling as though the weight of my question is too much to bear. His smile falters, and I can feel him tense under my grip. He turns his head away, his eyes distant, the flicker of pain crossing his face before he can mask it again. He looks smaller than he should, his posture stiff and defensive.

I pull him back to hold his gaze, unwavering. “If I find a way, I’ll let you know. But Wakka… that was more than a year ago, before I even arrived in Spira.” 

The words hit harder than I mean them to. I watch as Wakka’s eyes catch fire, a stubborn light burning behind them—like he refuses to accept what I’m saying, even if he knows it’s true.

"Just… don’t get your hopes up, alright?" I add quietly, the weight of my own words making my chest tighten. 

He doesn’t look away, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, he nods—just a slight dip of his head, but it’s enough. His shoulders relax, the tension easing, if only a little.

“Yeah…” he murmurs. “Thanks. I know I’m asking for a lot… but even just a chance to—”

He clears his throat, the words faltering as he tries to rein them back in, as if embarrassed by what he almost said. “Right—ya, don’t get my hopes up. I… uh… just… Thanks.” He shifts uncomfortably, his gaze darting away. “Maybe… don’t tell Lu or the others about this, huh?”

I raise an eyebrow at the request, the hint of a grin tugging at the corner of my lips. “Hmm… yeah, I wouldn't want to be around for that.”

Wakka’s laugh is rough, but it’s real—soft and a little sheepish. As he turns to rejoin the group, his posture eases just a little, the heaviness of the moment slowly lifting. I watch him go, and for a brief second, the air between us feels a little less charged, a little less uncertain. But in the back of my mind, something nags at me—something I can’t quite shake.

“Hey, slowpokes! Hurry up, will ya!?”

The shout cuts through the air, loud and brash. Our heads snap in unison toward the source, and there’s Tidus, standing some distance away from the group, hands cupped around his mouth as though he’s trying to challenge the heavens themselves to keep up with his energy. His voice carries like a blitzball thrown with too much enthusiasm, reverberating throughout the air.

The rest of the party doesn’t seem to react to his hollering. They’re all deeply engrossed in a conversation with someone—eyes focused, postures leaning in with interest. Wakka and I share a quick look before we make our way back to join them.

As we draw closer, I notice the woman at the center of their attention. She stands with a quiet confidence that feels different from the usual traveler. Her attire is simple but striking—green fabric that seems to catch the sunlight, complementing the warmth in her skin. Her face is fair, her dark eyes sharp and calculating, like she’s seen more of Spira than most people care to know. Her brunette hair is pulled neatly back, adorned with yellow ornaments at the sides that catch the light in a subtle yet elegant way.

She acknowledges us with a nod as we approach, her gaze lingering just long enough to register our presence, then shifts back to the group.

“My name is Belgemine. You are…?”

“My name is Yuna.” 

“Ah, the high summoner’s daughter. I’ve heard much of you. But you are still fresh on the road, are you not?”

“Yes, I am.” Yuna smiles meekly as she glances to the rest of her guardians in support. 

Belgemine stands stoically, but somehow expresses a gentle and almost playful personality as she continues, “I might have a few things to teach you.”

Yuna tilts her head curiously, “hm?”

“Let us see which are stronger. My aeons or yours. A one-on-one match. Not to the death, of course. What do you say?”

Tidus spins towards the summoner and whispers something into her ear. I frown in contemplation.

A match? Between aeons? 

Belgemine waits patiently for Yuna’s answer as the summoner thinks to herself before turning to the rest of the group. 

Auron speaks up then, “it is your decision. But, I see no harm in testing your skills as a summoner. Especially with someone who has more experience.”

“You think so?” Yuna mumbles, mostly to herself. She nods then, turning and bowing to the stranger. 

“I’ll do my best!”

Belgemine smiles, a small, almost sad smile. “Good. Before we begin…” She waves her hand, a glow of bright and powerful light engulfs Yuna as she gasps in surprise. “Your aeons have been healed. You can fight with your full strength. Come.” 

In a flash, the air shimmers as Belgemine summons fire that ignites at her feet, crawling outward in spiraling tendrils of flame. A summoning circle flares to life, the edges burning bright as the ground beneath her begins to crack. Rocks shudder, and molten lava bubbles from the cracks, searing the earth as the very soil begins to melt under the pressure of the intense heat. With a violent explosion, Ifrit bursts from the ground, his body composed of fire and molten rock. The beast’s roar shakes the very air, its long claws carving deep gouges into the earth as smoke billows from its nostrils in thick, black plumes. 

The oppressive heat radiates outward, and the rest of the group instinctively takes a few steps back, their faces grimacing from the warmth. I can feel the heat lick at my skin, the suffocating air crawling into my lungs. The power of the aeon is overwhelming—ferocious and untamed.

Yuna stands her ground, unfazed by the raging inferno before her. However, the slight quiver of her staff betrays her calm facade, an almost imperceptible sign of the weight of the battle ahead. My eyes narrow as I watch her, a little uneasy. 

A soft shuffle of movement to my side pulls my focus, and I realize—Auron is standing next to me, his presence quiet but undeniable. 

When did he get so close?

I glance at him, but his attention is fixed solely on the duel. His posture remains still, like a statue, unwavering as he watches the summoners with an intensity that I can't quite read. I feel his presence like a weight on my shoulders, but I don’t dare acknowledge it, not in the midst of this battle. The last thing I need right now is another lecture from the monk. 

Yuna calls upon Valefor with a fluid motion, the aeon descending from the skies in a glorious display of grace. The winged beast lands lightly before her, its wings spreading wide, casting a shadow over the ground. A soft gust of wind stirs around us as the two summoners exchange a brief, silent nod. The battle begins.

Valefor’s movements are quick and sharp, her strikes fast and nimble as she dances around Ifrit’s crushing blows. The fiery beast retaliates with brute force, swinging massive claws and launching torrents of flame, each blow making the ground tremble. The air is thick with heat and fury as the two aeons collide, one embodying speed and agility, the other strength and relentless fire. 

A knot forms in my stomach as I watch. There’s something unsettling about seeing these two creatures—monstrous in their own right—fighting in a vicious exchange of blows, following the commands of their summoners with a chilling precision. The whole scene feels too mechanical, too cold, as though it’s all part of some distant ritual rather than a true battle.

Yuna, recognizing the shift in momentum, calls Valefor back, deciding that endurance would not win this fight. The winged beast soars upwards, narrowly avoiding a searing claw swipe from Ifrit. I can’t help but raise my eyebrows in surprise when Yuna waves her staff, and Valefor unleashes a blizzard, its freezing winds cutting through the flames and chilling Ifrit’s molten back. A delighted smile flickers across Belgemine's face, her pride evident at the clever tactic.

But the triumph is short-lived. In a heartbeat, Ifrit retaliates, his fiery eyes narrowing with rage. He summons a sphere of pure flame, rippling with heat, and hurls it toward Valefor. The sphere collides with its target in an explosion of light and fire. 

The impact is brutal. 

Valefor screeches, a cry of pain as the fiery sphere sinks into its flesh, scorching and weakening the divine beast. The sight of the creature, now struggling to keep its form, makes my stomach tighten. 

But Yuna doesn’t hesitate. With a swift motion, she issues one final command. Valefor, battered but not broken, draws on the last of its strength. With a powerful beat of its wings, it surges higher into the air, its body shimmering with determination. The aeon opens its beak wide, and a brilliant light begins to coalesce within. The sky seems to darken as Valefor channels all its remaining energy into a concentrated beam of crimson light. The beam shoots downward, slamming into the earth around Ifrit in a burst of fire and light. The explosion shakes the very ground beneath us, throwing Ifrit backward with a force that rattles the air.

Belgemine’s expression remains neutral, and with a single, fluid motion, she waves her hand dismissively. Ifrit falters, its massive body writhing in pain as it struggles to recover from the devastating blow. Pyreflies begin to rise from its crumbling form, swirling in the air before the aeon dissolves completely, its silhouette fading into nothingness.

The heat dissipates quickly, but the echo of the battle lingers in the air. Both summoners stand silent for a moment, eyes locked on the empty space where Ifrit once stood.

“Stop. That is enough.” Belgemine’s voice cuts through the air, steady and commanding. Despite the fiery exchange between the aeons, she seems almost pleased, her expression a quiet mixture of respect and satisfaction. Her eyes linger on Yuna, still focused and intent despite the loss. “Not bad for one so young. I underestimated you.” 

She reaches into the folds of her robes and pulls out a delicate ring, its design intricate and elegant, a subtle yet undeniable sign of her approval. “Take this. You’ve earned it.”

Yuna’s face brightens as she accepts the ring, her smile wide and genuine. She bows her head slightly, gratitude clear in her voice. “Thank you, Belgemine.”

The older woman’s gaze softens, but only slightly. “You show great promise. With more training, you could defeat Sin,” she adds, her tone quiet but filled with unspoken understanding.

Yuna’s eyes light up at the words, but then she laughs softly, almost shyly. “Ah! Thank you! But I think you might defeat Sin before I am able to.”

Belgemine remains still, a strange quiet falling between them. The moment stretches, heavy with something unspoken, before the older woman speaks again, her voice lower this time. “I cannot.”

Yuna tilts her head, curiosity flickering across her features. “Hm?”

A long pause follows, and Belgemine turns away, her back to the group as her gaze wanders toward the horizon. Her voice carries softly in the still air. “Or should I say… I was not able to.” A wistful smile crosses her face as she glances back over her shoulder at Yuna, her expression warm despite the weight of her words. 

“You mean…” Yuna trails off, her voice small, but the question lingers in the space between them.

Belgemine gives a small nod, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “Farewell, Yuna. We’ll meet again.”

The woman in green begins to walk away, her footsteps light but resolute. Ifrit’s pyreflies flutter around her like a soft, fading echo of her presence, the air growing stiller as she walks off into the distance.

I watch her go, my mind spinning with questions. “What did she mean?” I ask, frowning and looking at the group with confusion, my arms crossed tightly against my chest.

Yuna stands still for a moment, the weight of Belgemine’s words clearly settling over her. After a beat, she speaks softly, her voice tinged with both admiration and a touch of sadness. “I’m not sure… She was very powerful.” Her fingers drift to the ring in her palm, the metal catching the light as she turns it over. “I hope I can train with her again… It was… good to meet another summoner.”

The silence that follows is thick with contemplation. I let out a sigh, uncrossing my arms and resting them on my hips as I glance over at Yuna. “Yeah, that was pretty intense.” My gaze lingers on her for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “You made some pretty sweet calls during that fight. You were in control.”

Yuna’s eyes light up at my words, her grin widening with unbridled enthusiasm. “You really think so?” Her voice brightens with the kind of genuine excitement only a moment of success can bring, the spark of confidence in her gaze undeniable. It’s a side of her that makes the hardships we face seem a little lighter, the journey ahead just a bit more hopeful.

Nodding in approval, the rest of the team showers Yuna with congratulations, her smile bright with pride. But as the group continues to move forward, my attention drifts once more to the monk. Auron, ever composed, looks away just as quickly.

Was he watching me?

I almost convince myself to ignore him, to disregard his constant, lingering glances. But just as I settle into the rhythm of the walk, his voice cuts through the quiet with a low grunt.

“Your arm…”

I glance back at him, eyebrow raised. “What?”

“How is it?”

“It’s fine—”

Auron’s flat, unamused look lands on me. I can almost feel the weight of his gaze behind his dark sunglasses.

I roll my eyes, rolling my shoulder for emphasis. “Ugh… it was sore. But it’s fine now. See?” I say quickly, circling my arm in a slow motion to demonstrate, hoping to put an end to his concern.

A deep, rumbling laugh erupts from him, quiet but clear. It vibrates in his chest and leaves his lips with the weight of something old and knowing. “I see.”

I feel my cheeks warm at the sound, the unexpected softness of it, and I quickly turn away, refusing to let him see me flustered. “Yeah, so don’t worry about it,” I mutter, trying to hide the faint pout tugging at my lips.

The air between us grows thick with the silence that follows, and I feel the lingering tension like a pull, an unspoken question hanging in the space between us. Not one to leave things unspoken for long, I turn the conversation back on him.

“What about you?” I ask, glancing sideways at him. “What’s up with your arm?” You’ve had it like that ever since, in the short time I’ve known you.

Auron’s expression remains relaxed, his brows barely lifting as he glances down at his left arm, still nestled within his haori. “Old habit.”

I blink, confused. “An old habit from what?”

He lets out a soft chuckle, the sound warm and almost nostalgic. “It was an injury. During my travels with Braska and Jecht. This arm was useless for a long time… I taught myself not to rely on it.”

I hum thoughtfully, letting the words settle in. “But it’s fine now?”

The warrior monk nods, his amber eyes glinting with a faint light as they meet mine. “It is now.”

I find myself drawn into his gaze for a moment, the amber swirling like a liquid flame, but I quickly look away, shaking off the weight of the moment. The quiet hum of the group ahead calls me back, and I refocus on the road before us, the brief connection lingering at the edge of my thoughts.

"My Lady Summoner!" A warm, womanly voice cuts through the air, pulling our attention away from each other.  

A middle-aged woman approaches, her eyes carrying the weight of many years, though still filled with warmth. Her green skirt sways gently as she walks beside a young girl, who gazes up at Yuna with wide, innocent eyes. The child’s stare is filled with awe, as if encountering something larger than life. 

Yuna immediately kneels, a soft smile spreading across her face as she lowers herself to the child’s level. “Hello there,” she greets, her voice gentle, soothing.  

“You’re a summoner?” The child asks, her voice tinged with curiosity and wonder.  

Yuna giggles softly, the sound like the chiming of a bell, and nods. “Yes, I am. My name is Yuna.”  

The child beams, her smile a reflection of Yuna’s own. “I’m Calli!”  

“It’s so nice to meet you, Calli.” Yuna smiles warmly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind the child’s ear, her gentle hands tenderly brushing the soft skin.

Calli’s eyes widen, clearly lost in thought. She sways back and forth, her little legs shifting as she ponders aloud, “Lady Yuna, are you going to bring us the Calm?”  

Yuna’s gaze softens, and there’s a quiet confidence in her voice when she answers, like a promise made to the very air around them. “Yes, very soon.”  

“Yay!” Calli exclaims, her face lighting up like the sun itself. Without warning, she starts running circles around Yuna, her small feet pattering excitedly on the ground. Yuna giggles in delight, her laughter light and free, and for a brief moment, the heavy weight of the world seems to lift from her shoulders.  

The mother, who has been quietly watching, steps forward with a tired but genuine smile. “We’re looking forward to another Calm, My Lady Summoner.” Her voice carries a hint of hope, the kind that only those who have seen too much sorrow can harbor.  

Yuna nods, her expression resolute. “I’ll do my best.”  

“And good luck to your guardians as well,” the woman adds, her eyes briefly flicking over the rest of us. Her gaze lingers for a moment on each face, taking in the weary but capable fighters standing at Yuna’s side.  

Tidus and Wakka both stand a little taller under the attention, their chests puffing out with pride, though they quickly mask their pride with playful smirks and casual waves. Lulu offers only a quiet, contemplative nod, her usual reserved nature intact. Kimahri stands a little further back, his presence silent but strong, his eyes unblinking.  

Auron and I remain on the outskirts of the group, standing slightly apart as the mother and child continue their conversation with Yuna. I watch the exchange with quiet interest, but my gaze drifts to Auron. His face is unreadable, though his posture is ever-so-slightly more relaxed than usual.  

Finally, the woman and her daughter wave goodbye, Calli’s voice trailing behind them, high-pitched and happy as she giggles, the sound gradually fading into the distance. The mother’s face softens as she looks back at Yuna one last time, before they disappear from sight.  

The group stands for a moment in the silence left behind, the faint echo of Calli’s laughter lingering in the air like a distant memory. Yuna straightens up, her smile still lingering, but there’s a trace of melancholy in her eyes as she looks back to the rest of us.  

“I’ll bring the Calm,” she murmurs softly to herself, as though reaffirming her purpose once more.

“What’s the Calm?” Tidus asks bluntly, his voice loud and curious, eyes still following the mother and child as they walk away.

Lulu’s arms fold tightly over her chest, her gaze sharp as she explains, “The Calm is a time of peace. It comes after a summoner defeats Sin, and lasts until Sin reappears.”

Tidus scratches his head, his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief as he tries to follow along. “Eh… huh?”

Yuna steps closer, her voice soft but clear as she simplifies it further. “Sin dies and is reborn.”

“Oh, I get it!” Tidus exclaims suddenly, his face lighting up with realization. “I thought it was weird. Yuna’s dad defeated Sin ten years ago, right? But Sin’s still here! Didn’t make much sense till now.” He pauses, then his brows furrow again. “Wait… if it just comes back…”

“Don’t say it isn’t worth it... Because it is.”

Yuna’s words hit like a calm but firm wind. She doesn’t look at Tidus, doesn’t even spare him a glance, as if she already knows what he’s thinking. She says it like it’s a simple truth, something that can’t be denied, something that’s etched deep in her heart. There’s no question in her voice, only a quiet, fierce conviction.

I glance at Lulu, her expression unreadable, but she catches my gaze for a brief moment before quickly looking away. Wakka, too, avoids eye contact, staring off into the distance, his mind seemingly elsewhere. Kimahri stands like a silent sentinel, as always, his face giving nothing away. Tidus mirrors my frown, his brow furrowed as if he’s trying to make sense of it all, trying to find a piece of the puzzle that doesn’t quite fit.

But it’s Auron who meets my gaze, steady and unwavering. His last good eye, so calm and yet so sharp, seem to understand the unspoken question that lingers between us both. Why does Sin keep coming back? Why is there this endless cycle?  

Yuna’s voice breaks the silence, calm but resolute. “Even for a little while… people can sleep in their beds without being afraid. That kind of time is worth anything. Don’t say it isn’t worth it.”  

Her words hang in the air, heavy but not burdensome. The simplicity of her belief—so pure, so unshakeable—makes it hard to argue, to challenge. In that moment, I realize just how much she’s already sacrificed for that fleeting peace, for that brief moment of respite. The kind of peace we all take for granted.

Tidus falls quiet, the light in his eyes dimming slightly as he processes her words. The rest of the group is equally silent, each of us lost in our own thoughts, the weight of what Yuna said pressing in like the humid air around us.

I watch her closely, her fingers tightening around her staff, the grip almost too tight, like she’s holding onto something she’s not sure she can let go of. Her shoulders shift slightly as she gathers herself, mustering the courage to look at Tidus. It’s only then that the blonde scratches his head sheepishly, a nervous chuckle escaping him.

“Y-yeah. No, you’re right. Sorry,” he mutters, his words sincere but still tinged with the confusion that lingers in his mind. 

I don’t say anything, but my eyes flicker briefly to Auron again, and this time, I can feel the quiet understanding pass between us. For all his stoicism, for all his distance, Auron is no stranger to sacrifice. And in this silence, I wonder what he sees when he looks at Yuna, when he sees what she’s willing to give for a peace that will never truly last.

Yuna’s shoulders drop slightly, the weight of her earlier thoughts lifting with Tidus’s soft apology. The tension in her posture dissipates as she accepts his answer, offering him a small, almost imperceptible smile. The quiet moment passes, and the two of them fall back into their usual chatter, the familiar rhythm of their conversation flowing again like a comforting lull.

As we continue down the road toward the temple of Djose, a steady stream of people crosses our path—some travelers, others civilians, and surprisingly, a few Crusaders. After the first couple we meet, offering supplies and mentioning an “operation,” our curiosity begins to grow. The number of Crusaders on the road seems unusually high, and whispers of a larger mission ripple through the air.

Wakka perks up suddenly, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Hey, check that out!” He points toward the distance, where a large wagon covered in green cloth looms in the shade of the road’s curve.

I blink in surprise when the wagon, its wheels creaking under the weight of its cargo, pulls off to the side, slowing down. A pair of individuals dismount and wander away from the contraption to stretch their legs. 

"Huh… isn’t that Luzzu and Gatta?" I ask, my voice tinged with recognition.

Wakka and Tidus share a glance, grinning at each other like kids who’ve spotted a familiar face in a crowd. Without hesitation, they jog toward the pair, the rest of us following at a slower pace. Tidus waves his whole body in an exaggerated motion, a goofy grin plastered across his face. Luzzu catches sight of him and waves back, his stoic expression cracking for a brief moment.

Gatta’s face lights up when he sees us, his enthusiasm matching the two guardians. "Hey! We saw the game! You guys were great!"

Luzzu offers a firm handshake to Wakka with a smile that’s warm and genuine. "Congratulations, Wakka!"

Before there’s a response, a high-pitched chirp cuts through the air, accompanied by the quick clack of claws scraping the earth. The sound draws our attention, and a moment later, Elma, one of the chocobo knights from earlier, rides up to us, her voice carrying an edge of playful annoyance. "Hey! Stop loafing around!"

Gatta stands up straighter instinctively, glancing nervously between the approaching chocobo knights and our party. His eyes flicker briefly to Yuna, though his posture doesn’t change. "Uh… The lady summoner and her guardians…" he says, trying to regain his composure.

Lucil, the red-haired soldier, wastes no time asserting herself. Her voice is sharp and commanding, cutting through the lighthearted atmosphere with military precision. "This mission requires our full attention. We’ve no time to waste! Understood?"

Luzzu turns on his heel at the sound of her voice, snapping into a salute, the gesture a reflex honed by years of discipline. "Yes, ma’am! Apologies, ma’am!"

"Carry on," Lucil replies curtly, her gaze already moving on, leaving little room for argument. The duo rides past as quick as they arrived.

Luzzu leans in toward Gatta, his voice dropping to a more familiar tone, though it still carries a note of advice. "See? Keep your head down, say ‘sir’ a lot, and you’ll do fine. Or ‘ma’am,’ in this case."

Gatta stifles a snicker, his grin contagious despite his best efforts to appear serious. "Right… sir."

Yuna giggles softly at the exchange, the sound light and unburdened. Luzzu’s smile softens as he watches Yuna, his earlier sternness replaced with a warmth that doesn’t quite match his uniform. "Hey, Yuna. Even though Yevon rejected us… we still believe in you. That won’t ever change."

Yuna blinks, caught off guard by the sincerity of Luzzu’s words. She’s quiet for a moment, the weight of her responsibility pressing on her once more. "Thank you, Sir Luzzu, Sir Gatta. But, you know… It’s not too late for you to go back to Besaid, and—"

The youngest of the pair, Gatta, glances back at her apologetically, his expression conflicted but resolute. "We should be going, sir!" His voice is sharp, trying to keep the mood light, but there’s an edge to it that betrays the gravity of their duty.

Luzzu nods quickly, his own face hardening as he pulls Gatta away. "Let’s go, Gatta."

The two Crusaders hurry off, the wagon slowly following behind them as they begin their journey back down the road. Their figures become smaller in the distance, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the thick, sunbaked air. As the rest of us stand in silence, the quiet weight of their departure lingers, and I can’t help but watch them as they travel down the road.

The Operation, the crusader’s ‘mission’, remains a mystery. The atmosphere around us shifts, the sudden stillness of the moment sinking in. Despite the distance between us and the Crusaders, there’s a connection in the air—a reminder of the mission we all share.

Sin.

Whether we fully understand it or not.

Chapter Text

As we trail behind the large wagon, the road ahead feels quiet, the air heavy with the heat of the day. We come upon an exchange, one that isn’t quite so peaceful. A Crusader, his broad shoulders tense with frustration, stands facing a female Acolyte, his voice rising in a harsh tone. 

“We’ll defeat Sin any way we can!” he declares, his words sharp as he glares down at the timid-looking girl.

The Acolyte, her hands trembling slightly, tries to respond. “B-but Yevon’s teachings say…”

“Enough!” The Crusader interrupts, his voice like a whip crack. Without another word, he storms off, leaving the Acolyte to stand alone, her gaze fixed on the ground, her posture small. 

“I-I only meant to…” she mutters weakly to his retreating form, but the words are lost in the air.

Yuna’s voice cuts through the tension like a balm. “Are you all right?”

The Acolyte startles at the sound of Yuna’s voice and looks up, her wide eyes filled with surprise. The young woman is dressed in the traditional attire of an Acolyte, a green hat adorned with white cones at each side, golden spheres hanging from delicate threads. Her layered outfit is a mix of soft whites and vibrant yellows and reds, with a belt-like wrap of dark blue and orange that ties at the waist, small yellow ornaments jingling with each subtle movement. 

“Lady Summoner…?” she breathes, her voice full of awe.

Yuna offers her a warm, reassuring smile, her presence gentle and kind. “Yes, I am Yuna.”

“It is an honor, my lady,” the Acolyte says, her voice a mix of reverence and nervousness. “My name is Shelinda. I am a disciple of Yevon.”

Wakka, always the one to break the silence, scratches his head as he watches the Crusader’s retreating figure. “What was all that about? The Crusaders’ operation?”

Tidus, his brow furrowed, chimes in, his tone curious. “You mean the one Gatta and Luzzu were talking about?”

I rest my hands on my hips, my gaze shifting from the Acolyte to the retreating Crusader. “Been wondering about that too.”

Shelinda’s eyes flicker between us, anxiety clearly written across her face. “I heard they were going to use forbidden machina!” she exclaims, her voice tinged with alarm. “I had to stop them.”

My brows furrow in surprise.

Machina?

What could it mean for Yevon’s teachings to be defied so openly?

Tidus’s confused tone echoes mine. “Huh? Why?”

Lulu, ever the voice of knowledge, explains with a calm certainty, her arms still crossed. “The use of machina is strictly forbidden by the Yevon priesthood.”

Wakka, never one to shy away from asking the obvious, turns toward Auron for backup. “That’s bad, ya?”

Auron, always the enigma, responds with a casual shrug, his voice low and nonchalant. “Let them use whatever they want. They still won’t defeat Sin.”

Wakka blinks, clearly not expecting such a response, while I find myself frowning further. Auron’s words have the weight of experience, but they also carry a certain bitterness, a skepticism that settles uneasily in the air. 

I can feel Shelinda’s frustration mounting. “But… it’s not about defeating Sin! The teachings of Yevon must be upheld!” she whines, her voice breaking as she clutches her hands in front of her, almost pleading with us.

Wakka shuffles over to her, his usual easy-going demeanor trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah! Right!”

“But you don’t understand! The Crusaders won’t even listen to me. And it’s all because I’m just a lowly acolyte.”

Yuna steps in, her tone firm but encouraging. “Don’t say that.” Her voice is soft, but her words carry an undeniable strength. Shelinda gasps, startled by the summoner’s intervention, her eyes wide with surprise.

Yuna continues, her voice filled with the quiet conviction of someone who’s learned hard lessons herself. “I haven’t been a summoner for very long either, you see. But even I know—there’s no reason to put yourself down every time you fail. People are depending on me. They’re depending on both of us.”

The words seem to hang in the air between them, and Shelinda’s eyes brighten, as if the weight of Yuna’s belief is something she’s never felt before. Her shoulders straighten just slightly, her posture shifting from passive to something just a little stronger.

“Yes! Yes, you’re right, my lady. Absolutely right!” Shelinda exclaims, her voice now filled with renewed determination, her earlier hesitation dissolving like morning mist in the sun.

Yuna’s smile grows wider, a proud warmth in her eyes as she watches Shelinda’s transformation. “You’re welcome, Shelinda. Just remember, it’s all about keeping hope alive and pushing forward, no matter what.”

Shelinda’s eyes shine with gratitude. “Thank you so much, Lady Yuna! Now I feel I have the courage to finish my training.” She takes a small breath, her gaze steady as she looks at the summoner. “I will do my best to get myself appointed to a temple... as a nun.”

Yuna nods, her smile unwavering. “I know you will, Shelinda. You have the strength to do it.”

With a final bow, Shelinda steps back, her confidence renewed. She turns to leave, a new fire in her eyes. “I’ll do my best, Lady Yuna. Thank you.”

As Shelinda walks away, I can’t help but feel a small sense of pride for Yuna. The way she’s able to inspire those around her—people like Shelinda—without even realizing it. There’s something incredibly powerful in the way Yuna connects with others.

—

After a steady climb up a slope, a large building comes into view on the horizon, its distinctive flags waving lazily in the breeze above the entrance. Auron’s boots crunch against the gravel as he strides forward, his pace unwavering. He gives a low grunt, signaling that we’ll be taking a break. “We rest here.”

As the sign for the shop comes fully into view, Wakka’s face twists into something between disbelief and accusation. “But this is an Al Bhed shop!” he protests, pointing a finger as if to condemn it outright.

Auron doesn’t even break stride. He turns, his expression hard and unreadable, a raised brow the only indication that he’s paying attention. “Is that a problem?”

Wakka, as if caught off guard by the bluntness of the question, hesitates. “They don’t believe in Yevon. And back in Luca... they kidnapped Yuna!” His voice rises slightly, frustration lacing each word, like a raw wound that hasn’t fully healed.

Auron’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, his voice even. “And... where were her guardians?” he asks, simple and filled with reproach.

Wakka falters, looking momentarily at a loss for words. It’s only when he sees Tidus, whistling as if to pretend the conversation isn’t happening, that his discomfort deepens. Lulu, always the voice of reason, facepalms in exasperation and shakes her head, as if she’s heard this argument a hundred times before.

Yuna, noticing the rising tension, steps in quickly, her voice calm and soothing, trying to defuse the situation. “Sir Auron’s just concerned about your health.” Her gaze lingers on Wakka, a small but understanding smile on her face.

Wakka’s puffed chest deflates a little, but he’s not ready to let go of the point. “I’m not tired one bit!” he grumbles, crossing his arms tightly, as if to lock away any further complaints. The orange-haired blitzball captain turns away petulantly.

Auron, unfazed, takes a single, purposeful step forward. “Well. I. am.” He doesn’t wait for any further protest. He marches directly towards the shop, his pace unyielding, clearly indicating that there’s no room for argument.

Wakka, momentarily flabbergasted, stands there with his mouth open, fumbling for something to say. “I... but... Ah, come on! We can just keep moving for a little longer!” His words fall flat, lost in the wind as he watches the older guardian’s back, a deep sigh escaping him.

Tidus, attempts lighten the mood with a quick pat on the older’s back, he smiles with exaggerated cheerfulness. It’s almost too obvious. Lulu, giving Wakka one last disapproving look, shakes her head again and starts guiding Yuna towards the shop, their footsteps echoing as they follow Auron.

The rest of us begin to follow suit, but I hang back for a moment, the sound of Wakka’s frustrated muttering hanging in the air. I can’t help but turn to him with a raised eyebrow. “Honestly, Wakka, it’s not that big of a deal, is it?” I ask, my voice casual, though my gaze is sharp as I meet his.

He scoffs, crossing his arms even tighter, his body language defiant.

I glance toward the shop, then back at Wakka, shrugging lightly. “It’s just one night. You can survive one night, can’t you?” 

Wakka’s frustration flares as he calls out after me, “But it is a big deal!” His voice trails off, the words catching between irritation and a strange kind of helplessness, and I feel the weight of it in the air around us.

I sigh, shaking my head. “Alright, Wakka. Whatever you say.” I turn toward the shop, footsteps echoing softly, leaving him to his thoughts.

Wakka remains where he is for a moment, staring at the shop with a mixture of disbelief and stubbornness, before he finally shakes his head and follows after the group.

—

I step through the entrance doors, the cool air from inside brushing against my skin as I take a moment to scan the interior. The shop is surprisingly well-kept, with shelves brimming with a variety of items that seem to cater to just about every need. The main lobby is bustling with quiet activity. On the right side, I see Auron standing with his broad back to me, his figure almost blocking the entire aisle of fruits and vegetables he’s inspecting. His hands remain still as he carefully examines the produce. On the opposite side, Kimahri’s tall frame looms by a row of shelves stacked high with books. His piercing gold eyes flick towards the Al Bhed at the check-in counter every now and then, but his tail flicks absentmindedly, a sign he’s either deep in thought or simply waiting for the others to finish up.

Tidus is near Kimahri, but it seems more by accident than by choice. I can’t help but chuckle as I watch the blonde practically pick at the books, flipping through them like he’s more interested in the dust on the pages than the contents. He opens one, scrunches his face, and begins skimming it too fast to actually read anything. I approach him slowly, my footsteps light, watching as he continues the farce of reading—fingers flicking the pages so rapidly that anyone would think he's skimming for a secret message rather than the text itself. He finally snaps the book shut with a dramatic flourish, a little too loudly, before tossing it onto an empty space on a random shelf.

I raise an eyebrow at him, and he turns, sensing my eyes on him. 

"Hey, Derek," he calls out, glancing over my shoulder in search of someone else. "Where’s Wakka?"

I click my tongue softly, reaching for the book he so casually discarded. My fingers gently trace its spine, memorizing the title before carefully placing it back where it belongs. “Probably still throwing a tantrum outside," I answer, without looking up.

Tidus groans dramatically, his voice a mix of frustration and exhaustion. He stretches his arms high above his head, the joints popping audibly, before letting out a loud yawn.

“The sun’s gonna set soon,” I say, glancing toward the window, the soft orange glow of the approaching evening creeping through the building. "This might be the last time we get to rest like this."

Tidus rolls his eyes, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "As if I could sleep," he mutters, almost like an afterthought, before dropping back into his usual irreverence. 

I squint down the hallway in the direction of the rooms, spotting a sign overhead labeled ‘bedrooms’. “Did Yuna head in already?”

Tidus nods absentmindedly, his gaze following the direction of my eyes, though his mind seems elsewhere. "Yeah, Lulu went with her." 

A man in red shorts, hauling a large backpack, chats with the lady behind check-in desk. After, the stranger thanks the innkeeper, and disappears down the hallway toward his own room. The innkeeper catches my eye with a polite smile as I approach the counter, gently pulling Tidus along with me. The blonde drags his feet like he’s being pulled to the gallows; he’s not too unhappy about it.

We reach the desk, and the innkeeper gives a soft, welcoming nod.

“Welcome to Rin’s Travel Agency. How can I assist you today?”

I nod politely, a hint of weariness in my posture. “We arrived with the summoner.”

The innkeeper brightens. “Ah! Yes, I have already informed Lady Yuna that there are limited rooms available.”

Frowning, I probe, “I… see. How many rooms do we have?”

The Al Bhed innkeeper offers a sympathetic smile. “We’ve reserved three rooms for your party.”

Tidus’s expression shifts, his suspicions piqued. “Oh, so I guess we have to share rooms, huh?”

I shoot a sideways glance at the blonde, his thoughts evidently racing. Rubbing a tired hand over my face, I quip, “Don’t be an idiot. Yuna and Lulu are sharing one.”

The innkeeper chuckles softly, and I can see Tidus visibly deflate like a popped balloon. Just then, Wakka trudges into the shop, eyeing everything around him as if it had personally insulted him. It had—each trinket and bauble seemed to offend his taste. His expression twists in disdain.

“Hey! Looks like we’re sharing a bed together!” Tidus calls out, raising a hand in a mock cheer.

I blink at the boy’s sudden statement, caught off guard by his change in mood. Wakka’s brows shoot up, and he nods, already onboard with the claim. “Ya, sure…” He strides over, throwing an arm around Tidus’s neck and playfully ruffling his hair.

“H-hey, quit it!” Tidus protests, trying to wriggle free, but the elder player merely laughs, clearly enjoying himself.

The lighthearted teasing is a refreshing distraction from Wakka’s usual scowls directed at all the Al Bhed around.

I catch the innkeeper’s attention, noting her amused expression as she witnesses the duo’s antics. “Hi, yes, the rooms only have one bed?” I lean forward on the counter, trying to gauge her response. She seems surprised but quickly nods, empathy still held in her voice. “Yes, I’m sorry. We aren’t typically overbooked.”

She slides two keys across the counter, which I accept with a nod. Just then, Tidus manages to break free from Wakka’s grip, delivering a playful punch to the shoulder of his taller companion. Wakka laughs heartily, but in a moment, he recalls where they are. Tidus reaches for the key, and I hand it over, still amused.

The blonde smirks sheepishly, “Didn’t want to share a bed with Mr. Grump over there. Betcha he snores.” The ace glances over my shoulder and I realize he’s talking about the monk.

I raise an eyebrow, teasing back. “Too bad, kid. I know Wakka snores.”

Tidus’s face pales slightly before he groans in defeat, dragging his feet toward the bedroom hall. Wakka waves cheerfully, following closely behind as the curtains flap gently, hiding them as they round the corner.

A warmth radiates from behind me, causing me to startle slightly as Auron grumbles, “I heard.”

I stifle a laugh at the noticeable tension in the innkeeper, who stands a little taller at Auron’s presence. Turning to face the disgruntled warrior, I can’t help but let a teasing smirk play on my lips. “Mm. The kid didn’t want to share a bed with you. Apparently, you’re quite the menace.”

Auron raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of curiosity and a scowl. He waits for me for to continue.

“Something about snoring,” I shrug, pretending to be nonchalant.

The older man chuckles deeply, a rich sound that curls through the air between us. “He’s the one who snores.”

“Huh… well, at least they’re in for an interesting night,” I reply, deliberately allowing a pause to stretch between us, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air. The innkeeper coughs awkwardly, breaking the moment, and I wave the key in front of me. “We should… probably find our room.”

Though his face remains carefully blank, there’s a glint of interest in Auron's gaze as he nods and follows. Moving the curtains aside, I roll the key between my fingers, feeling the anticipation build. Room 104. The door appears to be the second last in the dimly lit hallway. Slotting the key into the lock, I turn it, and with a satisfying click, I swing the door open.

Inside, the cozy interior beckons, but a subtle charge lingers in the air. The walls are mostly bare, save for two floating sphere heads casting a soft, warm glow that seems to dance over us. As I step inside, I toss the keys onto the countertop at the foot of the bed, turning towards the mattress where Auron stands, his eyes fixed on the bed in contemplation.

“So… which side do you want?” I ask, a hint of mischief in my tone. “The window or the door?”

—

Auron had silently taken a seat on the edge of the bed closest to the door, his stillness anchoring the room with an almost tangible weight. With his decision made, I drift toward the window, drawn to the fading light spilling through the glass, painting the walls in soft, warm hues.

Outside, a faint shuffle of footsteps echoes briefly past the door, fading into an unsettling quiet that seems to press against the inn’s thin walls.

The soft clink of metal pulls my gaze back. Auron methodically unfastens the straps of his arm guard, his movements deliberate and practiced. He sets the armor aside on the tiny table to his right. The setting sun catches on his Nodachi, leaning upright against the wall, the blade’s polished steel reflecting streaks of gold that flicker across the dimly lit room.

I cross to my side of the bed, my weapon’s weight pulling at my shoulder. With a swift, fluid motion, I unbuckle my gunblade’s strap, the familiar click breaking the quiet, and set it beside the bed. My vest follows—neatly folded and placed on the nightstand—each motion an unconscious ritual. The stillness between us is calm but heavy, broken abruptly by a firm knock at the door.

A muffled voice calls through the wood. “It’s me.” Lulu.

Auron stands without hesitation, his movements as smooth and purposeful as ever. The door opens to reveal her, her crimson eyes flicking briefly to him before darting past his shoulder, locking onto me. Surprise softens her expression for a beat. “Sir Auron,” she begins, tilting her head slightly, “you two are sharing a room? Where’s Wakka?”

Auron’s response is as succinct as ever, his gravelly voice carrying no more than needed. “He’s with the boy.” Without ceremony, he steps aside, letting Lulu enter, then returns to his place on the bed.

I round the mattress, crossing my arms as curiosity tilts my head. “What’s up?”

Her expression shifts, all business now. “The Al Bhed innkeeper mentioned that, as compensation for the lack of beds, they’ll provide us a free breakfast tomorrow. It’s the same dish for everyone, but you can request exclusions if you let them know tonight.”

I nod, my lips quirking slightly at the practicality of the message. “Got it. Thanks.” Sticking my head out the door, I glance both ways down the hallway. “Yuna’s not with you?”

Lulu’s usual composure falters, concern flickering through her features. “No, she said she wanted to watch the sunset. Kimahri is with her.”

Auron’s posture shifts almost imperceptibly, but it’s enough to draw attention. He stands, his hand already moving toward his Nodachi. Both Lulu and I exchange glances before she speaks.

“What are you doing, Sir Auron?”

“She shouldn’t stay out there long,” Auron replies simply, his voice steady as he glances at us.

Lulu nods, worry knitting her brow.

Leaving my weapon behind, I follow as the three of us file out of the room and into the main lobby. Lulu pauses by the door, her gaze flicking to the window, while Auron strides ahead with his typical air of purpose. I beeline straight to the check-in desk, the cool air brushing my face as I glance back toward the room we just left, the warmth within already feeling distant.

The innkeeper and I discussed the meal arrangements. Satisfied with the original menu, I made no substitutions and thanked her. She offered a polite smile, but there was a hesitation in her gaze. Finally, she asked, “I’m sorry if this is out of line, but… do you follow the teachings of Yevon?”

Surprised by the question, I frowned. “What makes you think I don’t?”

The innkeeper shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting down to the counter before meeting mine again. “Your clothes… and that weapon you were carrying,” she murmured, almost apologetically.

The lobby was empty save for Lulu, who stood near the window, her quiet demeanor giving no hint as to whether she was listening. The innkeeper fidgeted under the weight of the silence between us, her expression uncertain. I decided to answer honestly, offering a faint smile. “No, I’m not a Yevonite.”

Her face opened in surprise, and the tension in her shoulders seemed to ease. “O-oh… so then, why are you a guardian?”

“It was… a promise,” I said simply. “Yuna asked me to join her as a guardian, and I agreed. She knows I don’t follow the teachings of Yevon.”

The innkeeper listened quietly, her gaze thoughtful. “I see. Lady Yuna must be very… determined.”

Tilting my head slightly at her response, I watched as she smiled faintly and busied herself with something behind the desk. When I turned back, Lulu was staring at me, her dark red eyes steady and unreadable. I walked over to stand beside her, and she shifted her gaze back to the window.

“She’s awfully curious about you,” Lulu remarked.’

“Hm?”

“The innkeeper,” she clarified.

Glancing over my shoulder, I watched the innkeeper pretend to be preoccupied. “She mentioned my weapon and clothes. Makes sense. I remember how Wakka reacted the first time he saw it.”

Lulu nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I was surprised myself when I found out you made it. Her curiosity isn’t unwarranted, though. Anyone paying attention would notice you don’t follow Yevon’s teachings.”

I turned to face her fully. “Is it that much of a problem?”

Lulu hesitated, her expression turning pensive. “We could tell people it’s none of their concern… but I wouldn’t be surprised if it caused problems as we travel.”

I smirked faintly. “I could always fake it.”

A rare chuckle escaped her lips. “Yes, that’s an option. So long as you’re not Al Bhed, most Yevonites might let it slide. The higher-ups, though…”

Frowning, I crossed my arms. “This isn’t the first time I’ve heard something like that. What’s the deal with Yevon and the Al Bhed?”

Lulu sighed, her expression darkening. “It’s a long story. The Al Bhed use forbidden machina—the very technology that led to the creation of Sin. The teachings say that Sin will disappear only once we atone for the mistakes of the past.”

“And by mistakes, you mean technological advancement?”

She nodded solemnly. “It’s what destroyed Zanarkand we know. Stories describe it as a golden city filled with machina, a place of unrivaled beauty. But that progress brought about its ruin.”

I raised a brow, my voice tinged with disbelief. “So Yevon hates the Al Bhed because they refuse to stop using machina… and everyone else has to atone for it?”

“In the simplest of terms,” Lulu replied with a faintly bitter smile.

I rubbed my forehead, releasing a slow sigh. “From an outsider’s perspective, that’s… ridiculous. You know that, right?”

Lulu turned to me, startled by my bluntness. For a moment, her poise faltered, but she didn’t respond.

“This whole thing about Sin… it feels off,” I continued, narrowing my eyes in thought. “Yevon bans machina, except for the ones they allow. And they say everyone has to atone, but the rules don’t add up. Something doesn’t make sense.”

Lulu’s gaze hardened. “Are you saying we shouldn’t trust Yevon’s teachings?”

I met her eyes without flinching. “I’m saying the people at the top—priests, maesters—they’re just men. Not gods.”

Her silence stretched, her expression unreadable.

“Hope and faith are powerful tools,” I said quietly. “If you get everyone to believe in the same cause, you can twist anything into the truth.”

Lulu’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “You sound like someone who’s seen this before.”

I let out a low grunt. “Something like that. It’s easy to recognize once you know what to look for.”

An awkward stillness hung between us, the weight of the conversation pressing down. Lulu looked as though she wanted to say something but held back. Sighing, I turned and headed for the door, leaving her to her thoughts.

Chapter Text

A breath escapes me as I take in the view. The sun had begun its descent toward the horizon, spilling vivid streaks of gold, orange, and pink across the sky. The ocean stretched endlessly, a shimmering mirror to the hues above, while the grassy hillside provided the perfect foreground. In the distance, Yuna and Tidus stood side by side, their voices too soft to hear as they gazed out at the sunset together.

“I figured I’d give those two some space.”

Auron’s low voice startled me slightly. I turned to find him leaning casually against the wooden fence lining the Al Bhed shop, his posture relaxed, but his presence as commanding as ever. Smiling faintly, I moved around him and hopped onto the edge of the fence, letting my legs dangle freely over the side. I hummed softly as I settled, catching sight of Kimahri standing silently in the distance, ever-watchful.

“Isn’t that dangerous? Leaving two young lovebirds alone like that?” I teased, glancing at him from the corner of my eye.

Auron was quiet for a moment before replying, his voice steady. “So long as Yuna continues her pilgrimage.”

I raised a brow at his response, surprised. “All about the pilgrimage, huh?”

He turned slightly toward me, the faintest trace of curiosity in his expression. “It’s also your only way home.”

I fixed him with a flat stare, crossing my arms. “I told you already, the odds of me going home are—”

“Not impossible.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a faint smile as he cut me off. His sunglasses were off for once, hanging loosely between his fingers before he folded them neatly and tucked them into his haori. In the fading sunlight, his good eye glistened like molten amber, sharp and striking against the softening hues of dusk.

“You’re awfully pretty, you know,” I murmured, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Auron froze, his brow lifting slightly as his face slackened.

Smiling lazily, I swung my feet idly, pretending not to notice the way his posture stiffened. “What? No one’s ever told you that before?”

The stoic warrior actually looked incredulous, his gravelly voice unsteady as he repeated, “You think… I’m pretty?”

“Pretty, handsome, both,” I replied smoothly, my smirk widening.

Auron pushed off the fence, his movements slow and deliberate. I watched as his gaze flicked to the horizon before returning to me, darker now, more intense. A shiver ran down my spine as he closed the distance, stepping in until he was standing between my legs. His hand rested lightly on my thigh, the warmth of his touch searing through the fabric of my pants. My breath hitched, and a heat that had nothing to do with the setting sun pooled low in my belly.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low, rough, yet tinged with hesitation.

Shoving aside the frantic pounding in my chest, I leaned in slightly, my smirk softening into something more genuine. “The flirting? That goes both ways… unless, of course, there’s some rule about two guardians having a little fun?”

Auron’s brows furrowed, his confusion clear as he muttered, “No, there… there aren’t any rules. Not about that.” His voice dropped further. “But you… with me?”

The uncertainty in his tone was almost endearing, a stark contrast to the confident and unshakable image he usually projected. The hint of vulnerability in his features tugged at something deep inside me. Without thinking, I leaned forward, closing the gap and pressing my lips to his.

The kiss was gentle, restrained—a quiet moment that was over almost as soon as it began. When I pulled back, Auron’s face was flushed, his one good eye wide with surprise. His lips parted slightly as though to speak, but no words came.

Cute.

Clearing his throat, Auron looked away, the tips of his ears tinged red. But he didn’t step back. He remained firmly in place, still standing between my legs, his presence radiating warmth and solidity. Emboldened, I reached out and tugged lightly on the lapels of his haori, pulling him closer.

“What do you say?” I whispered, my voice soft but insistent.

Auron closed his eye briefly, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His thumb brushed lightly against my pulse, his grip on my wrist firm but careful, as if grounding himself.

“…I wouldn’t be much fun for you,” he muttered hoarsely, his voice barely audible.

“Doubtful.”

“Derek-”

“Yes, or no?” 

His eye cracked open, and for a moment, the amber seemed to burned brightly, sharp and searching. “Ten years ago… I would have said no.”

I held his gaze, my smile growing as I leaned in again. This time, the kiss held a promise, slow and deliberate.

“Tonight, then,” I murmured as I pulled away.

Auron exhaled slowly, his face still flushed as he nodded almost imperceptibly. Clearing his throat once more, he finally stepped back, retreating as though needing the space to steady himself. Without a word, he turned and began walking toward Yuna and Tidus, his movements purposeful.

I watched him go, a small, satisfied smile curling my lips. The sky was darkening now, the sun fully below the horizon, its brilliance replaced by the deep purples of twilight. Sliding off the fence, I stretched before turning toward the shop, my steps light as I made my way back inside.

—

Lulu was nowhere to be seen.

The Al Bhed girl at the check-in desk offered me a polite smile as I entered, but I barely registered it. My mind felt quiet, the kind of quiet that comes after a long day of travel and unspoken thoughts. I meandered through the lobby and down the hall toward our room. Slipping past the door, I allowed myself a rare moment of carelessness, letting my shoulders slump as I began peeling off the rest of my clothes.

I folded each piece neatly on the larger table at the foot of the bed, more out of habit than intention, and trudged into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind me, and the noise of the outside world melted away. Turning the knobs, I sighed in relief as the water ran hot, steam curling around me as I stepped under the spray. The steady pressure hit all the right spots, easing muscles I hadn’t realized were tense.

Closing my eyes, I let the water work its magic, scrubbing myself thoroughly. The warmth was fleeting, but it felt grounding. The sound of the water drowned out most things, but not everything. My ears perked at the faint creak of the door opening and closing, muted but there.

Auron.

The thought passed through my mind as I rinsed the last of the suds from my body. I stayed under the spray for a beat longer, savoring the heat before stepping out gingerly onto the cool floor. Snatching a soft towel, I dried myself off methodically, wrapping it around my waist once finished. My hair was still damp, but no longer dripping.

Pushing the door open, I stepped out into the room, steam trailing in my wake. Auron’s head snapped up immediately. He sat on the edge of the bed, facing the bathroom door, his broad frame stiff as though caught off guard. Both hands rested on his knees, and there was a weight in his posture—deep thought, maybe, or something else.

As our eyes met, he stood abruptly, his movements sharp and deliberate, almost as if instinctive. The man carried himself with the same rigid courtesy he always did, his actions measured.

Unable to help myself, I snickered softly, thumbing toward the bathroom. “All yours.”

His scowl came swiftly, but it didn’t linger. His expression shifted instead into something carefully neutral, the mask he wore so well. Auron nodded curtly, his good eye flicking over me for a moment before he moved. His hands reached up to strip off his haori with practiced ease, the thick red fabric sliding from his shoulders and folding across his arm.

I stepped past him without a word, my feet finding the bed as I slipped beneath the sheets. The cool fabric was a contrast to my still-warm skin, and I relaxed onto my back, the towel still secured around my waist.

The sensation of being watched prickled at me before I turned my head to find Auron staring. His gaze lingered, not wandering, but focused, as though he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with this.

I met his eyes steadily, arching a brow in silent challenge.

And there it was again—a flicker of something behind his stoic exterior, something unreadable but tangible. He held my gaze for a moment longer before I pulled him out of his thoughts.

“No point in getting dressed. Just don’t take too long, or I’ll get cold,” I tease, my tone light as I glance at the older man. 

Auron’s single good eye narrows briefly in mock irritation, though the faint flush rising to his rugged cheeks doesn’t escape my notice. He lets out a low grunt, a sound more expressive than words, before hanging his haori neatly over the hilt of his nodachi, which leans against the wall. The familiar weight of his armor shifts as he unfastens the straps of his chest guard and long collar, setting the pieces down with methodical precision beside his blade. Beneath the layers, a snug black tank clings to his torso, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and the firmness of his frame.

I don’t bother hiding my stare. The layers he so often wears—heavy, concealing, practical—mask far more than they reveal. But now, with each deliberate movement, they peel away to uncover the figure beneath.  

If Auron notices my gaze, he gives no sign of it. Instead, he pulls the tank off in one smooth motion, leaving him bare from the waist up. His muscles flex and ripple, a testament to a life of discipline and combat. A dusting of dark hair spreads across his broad chest, thickening slightly as it trails down his abdomen and disappears beneath the waistband of his black pants.  

The sight is as striking as it is unexpected, and I can’t help but marvel at the man who carries himself with such quiet strength, so often hidden beneath the trappings of a warrior.  

I mentally note, with no small amount of amusement, that yes, I fully intend to find out where that trail of hair leads.

Much to my disappointment, Auron seems to think better of himself. His jaw tightens, and without a word, he turns and marches off toward the bathroom. He doesn’t even give me the courtesy of removing his pants first, robbing me of the full show. I sigh as the door shuts behind him with a soft click.

Letting the tension seep from my body, I sink deeper into the bed, the soft sheets cradling me as my eyelids grow heavy. The sound of running water fills the room, followed by the faint echo of Auron stepping into the shower. The Al Bhed shop is unusually quiet, almost unsettling in its stillness. I expect to hear muffled voices or movement from the neighbouring rooms, but the silence remains unbroken.

The minutes drag on, the rhythm of the water becoming a steady background hum, until it cuts off abruptly. I perk up slightly at the sound of movement behind the bathroom door—soft shuffles and the rustling of a towel.

Rolling onto my side, I prop myself up on one elbow, cradling my head in my hand as I watch the door. When it finally opens, Auron steps out looking like every bit the legendary guardian that bards sing about.

His hair is damp, slicked back by what must’ve been his hand. The wolf-tail end of it, tied with a golden ribbon, rests against his shoulder. Funny—I hadn’t noticed that before— his ponytail kept hidden within his collar. His chest glistens under the room’s warm light, droplets of water trailing down in maddeningly slow patterns over the contours of his muscles. It’s enough to make jealousy stir in me for every bead of water that gets to slide down his chest.

He walks forward stiffly, the towel snug around his waist, clinging to the sharp planes of his hips. One hand, the one he usually keeps hidden in his haori, rests protectively on the folded edge of his towel, as though he doesn’t quite trust it to stay in place. His other hand alternates between clenching and unclenching at his side.

Is he nervous?

The thought strikes me, and I feel the corners of my lips twitch upward. Reaching out with my free hand, I grip the edge of the sheets and pull them back slightly, revealing his side of the bed in an invitation.

“Well? Aren’t you going to join me?” I purr, my voice low and teasing.

For a moment, Auron doesn’t move. His good eye locks onto the vacant space saved just for him, the lines of his face unreadable. Then, almost imperceptibly, the corner of his mouth twitches. Is that a smile? Or just a trick of the light?

Without a word, he slides into the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. But rather than settling close, he leaves a careful gap between us, as though the very act of proximity is a dangerous line he’s not yet ready to cross.

Frowning, I reach out and press a hand against his chest. His skin is warm beneath my palm, firm and solid in a way that sends a shiver through me. With a sharp intake of breath, Auron turns to me sharply, his eye wide, a flicker of something—anticipation?—in his gaze.

“Did you change your mind?” I ask softly, my voice steady despite the quiet tension in the room. “Auron, you can say no.”

The warrior monk is silent, his gaze steady as it holds mine. The weight of it is palpable, the space between us swirling with something unspoken. The seconds stretch, each one marked by the faint sound of our breathing, until finally, he whispers, “No.”

Confusion flickers across my face and slowly turns to understanding, and I begin to pull back, the tentative connection slipping through my fingers. But before I can retreat too far, his hand captures my wrist—firm, warm, steady. His grip lingers, his touch a quiet plea. “No,” he says again, his voice stronger this time. “I didn’t change my mind.”

The words hang between us for only a moment before he moves. Slowly, deliberately, Auron pulls my wrist over his shoulder, bringing me closer as he twists toward me. His movements are unhurried but sure, the weight of his intent lights a fire deep within my gut. And then, he leans in, meeting me halfway, his lips colliding with mine in a kiss that steals my breath and my balance.

A surprised sound escapes me, muffled against his mouth, as my hand instinctively finds the back of his neck. His hair is softer than I expect, the strands thick beneath my fingers as I thread through them. Our teeth clack briefly in our haste, but the moment smooths as his lips mold to mine, coaxing and sure. His free hand slides along my arm, the war ridden skin on his fingers catching faintly against my skin. The touch is both reverent and grounding, tracing a path to my shoulder, down my side, before coming to rest at my hip.

The shift is subtle but inevitable—Auron presses forward, and I yield, sinking into the mattress beneath him. His body moves with a quiet strength, enveloping me without overwhelming. His chest presses against mine, the heat of him seeping through the thin barrier of fabric the towels provide, and I can feel the steady rhythm of his heart. The kiss, fervent at first, softens into something slower, deeper—a deliberate exploration rather than a hurried conquest.

I sigh against his lips, my other hand sliding along his back, seeking some purchase, some anchor. His muscles shift beneath my touch, taut and unyielding, and yet there’s a softness to the way he moves, a care that leaves my chest tight with something I don’t dare name. My fingers curl into his hair, nails scraping gently along his scalp, and the shiver that runs through him sends a quiet thrill coursing through me.

When he finally pulls away, we’re both breathing hard, the air between us thick and charged. The room has grown darker, the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the window as the only illumination. The amber of his eye gleams, a molten gold that seems too vivid in the dim light. We don’t speak, but in that moment, I feel the weight of his presence like a warm, protective cocoon.

For the first time since finding myself in Spira, which feels like forever, the tension in my chest loosens. The shadows of doubt and fear that have lingered for a year start to recede, if only for a moment, leaving me with a single, startling realization.

For the first time in a long time, I feel safe.

No-… this… this is just sex.

Huffing, I push up on my elbows, grinding against him and he eagerly responds. Flipping us over so that the older man lands on his back with a satisfying groan. I slither down and lick his neck, then his chest. Smirking against the coarse hairs before moving lower, wrapping my lips around a bud of flesh and giving it a hard suck. The older man moans out above me, hips rocking up. I suck sensually, swirling my tongue around the sensitive spot while tracing my left hand along his body. Fingers teasing on his stomach as the muscles tense under my touch. I follow the trail of hair until I reach the edge of his towel. Pressing my hand firmly against the bulge hidden within. I release him with a wet pop. Glancing down in awe at his impressive size.

"Liar..." I whisper over his ragged breaths.

A low growl escapes the older man. He scowls almost defensively. "What?"

"You said I wouldn't have any fun." I grin devilishly. "But this looks like more than enough fun for me." I squeeze his cock through the towel, causing him to thrust involuntarily as he curses.

Auron grunts breathlessly, almost laughing. "Hmph. Then get on with it."

My hands eagerly explore his body, one trailing down to tease the edge of his towel as I kiss my way down his chest. His throbbing length is a delicious prize for me to play with, and I can feel him struggling to maintain control as I stroke and kiss at him through the cloth. With a teasing grin, I unwrap his towel like a present, revealing the full glory of his pulsing cock. His breath hitches and he grips the sheets as I wrap my hand around his thick member, relishing in its warmth.

But my own need is growing impatient, and I waste no time in taking him into my mouth, earning a strangled groan from Auron. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I push myself to take more of him, savouring the taste of his balls against my tongue once he’s buried to the hilt. Somewhere in between, his hand threads through my hair. Auron's fingers grip my hair and scalp tightly as I continue to pleasure him, switching between sucking and licking, revelling in each raw sound that escapes from him.

He watches me with a dazed expression as I pull back, my tongue tracing along the underside of his cock before plunging back down again. My hands roam up his abdomen, feeling every ripple and contour of his body as I suck greedily on him. His groans from above tell me it’s almost too much for Auron to handle, but he never stops touching me, running his fingers through my hair in apology for the intensity of pleasure coursing through us both.

“Derek-…” I hum and swirl my tongue around his length, barely paying attention as I continue to pleasure him. 

“Mm?”

“You need to… I can’t hold on much longer…”

Stopping and pulling off with a loud slurp, I grip the base of his cock before looking up at him. My eyes glance down briefly at the trail of saliva connecting us. “Already?” I tease. “You must be even more pent up than I am to be this close already.”

Despite his heavy breathing, Auron gives me a fierce look.

Laughing and kissing the tip of his swollen member. “Fine, fine. Here, I'll even let you finish in my mouth.” Auron's jaw drops open in shock.

Smirking against him before taking him back in, my lips tightly wrapped around him and eagerly swallowing him whole again. It's easier now that I've gradually adjusted to his size, and I moan deeply with my mouth full as I set a desperate and satisfying rhythm.

"W-wait. Derek-!" The monk's plea is cut off by a loud groan of pleasure. My eyes widen as I see his expression tense up. He lifts off the bed, curling in as he groans in ecstasy. A wave of warm fluid floods my throat and I gag softly. Clearing away tears, I recover quickly to suckle sweetly on his throbbing cock. Auron collapses back onto the bed, panting heavily, his hand still tangled in my hair.

Thick and sweet. Delicious.

The older man winces when I release him. He lies there, body limp and gazing up at the ceiling.

As I sit on my knees, I look down at the sprawled out man, licking my lips to savor his taste. Prodding at his thigh, I furrow my brows and scowl at him when he meets my gaze.

"That was way too fast, Auron."

The monk sits up on his elbows, his chest rising and falling as he exhales a sigh. “My… apologies.”

I tilt my head, raising a brow in amusement, waiting for him to elaborate. His hesitation intrigues me.

Auron grimaces, shifting to sit fully upright. His broad shoulders are tense, and he doesn’t meet my gaze right away. “It was my first time,” he admits, his voice low and gruff.

For a moment, I’m struck silent, the words not quite registering. “Wait… what?” I manage, leaning forward in disbelief.

He glances at me briefly, his expression somewhere between annoyance and resignation, though the soft glare he sends lacks any true bite. “I’ve never… indulged in such acts before,” he says carefully, his hands resting on his thighs, his fingers curling slightly. “As a devoted warrior of Yevon, we were forbidden from such… distractions. When I joined Braska on his pilgrimage, it gave me a way to still serve honorably after I had fallen out of favor with the Yevon elite. Even though I was excommunicated, my priorities were clear back then.”

There’s something in the way he speaks—a mixture of pride and regret, a quiet acknowledgment of the life he’s lived and the choices he’s made. But the weight of his past seems lighter now, as though he’s shed some of its burdens.

Feigning nonchalance, I lean forward and peer up at him through my lashes. “And now your priorities are…?” I ask, my tone teasing, a mischievous grin playing on my lips.

Auron glances at me, his eye glinting with something that feels uncharacteristically playful, even for him. A soft chuckle rumbles from deep within his chest, and he shakes his head. “Now? Now I don’t give a damn.”

His response takes me off guard, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “You really know how to make a guy swoon, don’t you?” I quip, face flat with dry humour.

He hums, the sound deep and resonant, and the corner of his mouth twitches in a faint smile. “I haven’t done anything yet,” he replies, his voice rich with a quiet confidence that wasn’t there before.

The simplicity of his statement sends a shiver down my spine. There’s no bravado in his words, no need for embellishment. Auron doesn’t have to try—he is. And that, I realize, is what makes him so damn irresistible.

“I wasn’t—” The words die on my tongue as a soft sound escapes me, stolen by Auron’s firm yet gentle tug. Without warning, he pulls me down against his chest, easily guiding me as though I weigh nothing. In one fluid motion, he lays us back onto the bed, shifting his body to hover over me. I feel the heat of him everywhere all over again, his arms bracketing me, his presence grounding yet electric.

There’s an easy smile on his face now—warm, unguarded, and entirely disarming. It’s a good look for him, one I want to memorize, one I find myself hoping to see again and again, no matter how foolish the thought itself is. Leaning down, he presses his lips to mine, the kiss soft and tentative, almost shy. His tongue grazes my bottom lip, and I smile against him, welcoming the gesture with a quiet hum.

When he deepens the kiss, capturing my lip and sucking gently, a moan slips from me unbidden. Auron pulls back just enough to study me, his gaze a mix of awe and quiet triumph. Our breaths mingle in the stillness, both of us ragged, hearts racing.

But then his expression shifts. The smile fades, replaced by a frown that pulls at the corners of his mouth. It’s subtle but still obvious—a crack in his confidence. It makes my chest ache.

Sliding my hands up from his chest to drape around his broad shoulders, I let the weight of my arms rest there. “What is it, big guy?” I ask softly, my voice gentle, barely above a whisper.

His gaze softens as though my touch steadies him. He leans forward, his forehead resting against mine. For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our breathing and the faint rustle of sheets beneath us. “I… don’t know how to do this,” he admits, his voice low, tinged with vulnerability.

I blink, caught off guard by the confession, before offering a small smile. “Hm? You were doing just fine before you stopped,” I tease, trying to lighten the weight of the moment.

His single eye narrows, delivering a deadpan stare that only makes me giggle softly in the dark. It’s intimate, this exchange—our whispers too fragile and personal for anyone else to hear.

“Just… do what feels good,” I say, my tone softer now, earnest. “If you feel good, odds are I will too.”

Auron huffs faintly, the sound almost a laugh, though it’s followed by a skeptical murmur. “Is that supposed to be advice?” he mumbles against my lips, kissing me again before I can reply.

“What? It’s good advice!” I manage between kisses, though the words are more laughter than protest.

When he pulls back again, his uncertainty lingers. His gaze drifts, roaming my body with a look that feels foreign on his face. Reverence, maybe? Hesitation? I’m not sure. His hand slides along my flanks, tracing a slow, deliberate path, his fingers warm as they wander over my ribs and up to my chest.

He pauses, his hand stilling as his gaze flicks up to meet mine. There’s a question in his eyes, unspoken but clear.

I nod encouragingly, offering him a reassuring smile. “Go ahead,” I whisper, my voice steady. “Explore.”

The faintest hint of a smile tugs at his lips, and I feel the tension in his shoulders ease. Auron shifts closer, his touch becoming bolder, more curious. The uncertainty begins to fade, replaced by something softer, something more instinctive. And as his hand continues its journey, I close my eyes and let myself fall into the quiet intimacy of the moment.

His hands venture across my bare chest. I gasp when they linger on my nipple, warm and calloused digits teasing the nub. I moan when his face draws in close with a warm breath ghosting over my chest. Before long, the older man’s tongue flicks and prods the sensitive nub, hot and wet. He latches on and proceeds to give a firm suck, mimicking what I had given him moments before. I let out a pleased moan, my own fingers dragging along his scalp, pressing him further into me. He responds in kind, his teeth graze and he gently bites which sends me into a flurry of curses. He pulls back as if burned at the same time as I pull him in because — yes, more of that.

“A-again. I liked that, Auron.” I whimper softly.

Auron’s brain seems to short circuit at the admission. His cock had started swelling during the kiss earlier but had twitched eagerly against my leg. Nodding minutely, the older man wastes no time and returns his attention to my chest. He resumes his ministrations and like a promise, adds a little teeth. Biting along my sensitive flesh. The moans that escape me fuel him on as he kisses and sucks on several spots. My mind wanders passively on the bruises and marks that will no doubt linger long after the deed is done but I could barely muster the strength to care. After littering my chest with soft eager bites, he moves back up and sucks on a spot between my shoulder and neck. 

“Are you trying to mark me?” The whine comes out as a moan. I can feel a small smile form against my neck when Auron kisses the slowly forming bruise softly. 

“Yes.”

“This is completely unbecoming of a monk of Yev-” Auron shuts me up with a filthy kiss. I laugh against his lips while the man actually ruts against me. His cock thick and swollen, back to its proud state. 

“I want… I need to be… inside you.” He mumbles against my lips. His voice, rough like gravel that vibrates against my chest. 

My hands slide up, cupping his jaw, the rough scrape of his stubble grounding me. It works; his gaze shifts back to mine, and the flicker of hesitation fades as I speak. “You need to stretch me,” I murmur, my voice soft but steady. “You’re… big. I’ll need it, so it doesn’t hurt.”

Auron’s expression sharpens with a quiet determination. He pulls back slightly to study me, his gaze serious, but there’s no trace of doubt in the lines of his face. He nods once, firm and resolute, before shifting to sit up. His hands move to my legs, large and warm as they glide over my thighs, his touch slow and deliberate. He waits, his patience endless, for me to guide him further.

“We need something,” I say, glancing to the bedside table. I twist over, reaching for the drawers on my side, only to find them frustratingly empty. Huffing softly, I turn back to him. “Can you—?” I gesture toward his side of the bed.

Without a word, Auron shifts, his movements as fluid as they are careful. He leans over me, his chest brushing mine briefly as he reaches for the drawer. The heat of him lingers long after he pulls back, holding a small, hand-sized tub with Al Bhed lettering etched across the lid.

I take it from him, turning the container over in my hands with a curious frown before twisting it open. A pleasant, subtle aroma wafts up immediately, filling the air between us. My fingers dip into the substance, testing it. It’s smooth, rich, and spreads easily across my skin.

A smile tugs at my lips as I glance up at him. “This’ll work,” I confirm, offering him a reassuring nod. “Just coat your fingers first.”

He takes the tub from me, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration as he scoops a small amount onto his fingers. He’s quiet and focused, an almost methodical care in the way he spreads the substance, warming it between his hands.

His eyes flick back to me as if for permission, and I nod, shifting slightly to make it easier for him. Pulling my legs up towards my chest, I watch as the monk’s face flushes as I present myself. His one good eye locked onto my entrance.

“Here…?” he murmurs, his voice low and almost hesitant, the uncharacteristic shyness threading through his tone catching me off guard. I meet his gaze and nod, encouraging him with a soft smile before reaching out to guide his hand by the wrist. The roughness of his fingers against my skin makes me shiver, and when he finally brushes against that sensitive spot, a sharp hiss escapes me, pleasure sparking to life like a lit fuse. For a moment, his touch is tentative, exploratory—his fingers trailing and circling, teasing the delicate rim with an unintentional finesse that has my mind faltering, thoughts stuttering into incoherence. My breath hitches, and I barely manage to moan the words that are clawing their way out of me, urging him forward, deeper.

“You… you have to… slide a finger in. Go slow..” I plead.

Leaning back and closing my eyes, I feel his fingers hesitate just outside my puckered entrance. I squirmed under the mercy of his touch as he glides his finger against me, pressing in gently without breaching. I flexed my cheeks to entice him, proving I had no interest in resisting. The gesture seemed to work as Auron let out a pleased sound and insistently pressed further in. Words die on my tongue as I gasp. His gaze meets mine, a small frown rests on his brow with heart wrenching concern. To the best of my ability, I tried to convey with just my eyes, not to stop. That I wanted more. Auron must have been pleased with what he saw because the next moment, I’m rewarded with the smooth glide of his finger as it presses in. With a sharp intake of breath, I arch off the bed. Moaning shamelessly while he invades me. His finger flexing inside, dragging along my most intimate of parts. 

His face morphs into one full of desire, Auron’s breaths are visible with the expanse of his shoulders and chest. He moves his finger in and out, gently dragging moans out of me. 

Auron’s voice is broken when he says, “you’re so… tight. So soft and warm.”

“M-more… please…” The words tumble out, soft and desperate, my voice trembling as my body arches into his touch. My mind barely registers the plea before my lips are already forming the words.

Auron’s gaze flickers, a spark of understanding in his eye. His jaw tightens, but he nods, slipping a second finger inside with deliberate care. The stretch sends a shiver through me, drawing a breathless moan from my lips. He groans low in his chest, the sound grounding me as his fingers move with growing confidence, testing my reactions.

Then, he shifts his hand, twisting his wrist so his palm faces upwards. The motion is purely curious. Before I can form the words to guide him, he crooks his fingers, pressing deeper until—

“Ah—!” The shout rips through me, raw and unrestrained. Pleasure surges like a shockwave, pulling a strangled moan from my throat as my length twitches against my stomach, the sensation overwhelming. My body jolts, hips lifting off the bed in a desperate attempt to keep his touch exactly where it is.

Auron freezes, his hand stilling in surprise, he hadn’t expected that reaction. His gaze flicks up to me, the barest hint of awe softening his features. I clench down on his fingers instinctively, my muscles trembling as though begging him to stay.

“Don’t stop…” My voice is barely above a whisper, thick with need, as my hands reach for him, anchoring myself to his broad frame.

“Was… that good?” The monk asks, unsure of himself.

Nodding breathlessly, I fall back and sink further into the bed. 

“I can’t wait to feel you hit that spot again… and again… until I’m wrecked.”

The monk lets out a low, strangled sound, his composure fraying as his fingers resume their slow, deliberate rhythm. There’s a glint in his eye now—a quiet intensity, a satisfaction that belies his usually stoic demeanor. He likes this, I realize. The way I tremble beneath him, the breathy moans spilling from my lips at the deft stroke of his fingers—it’s power, but not the kind he wields on the battlefield. This is intimate, raw, and he’s revelling in it.

When he slips a third finger inside, his touch is surer, his movements more confident. The glide is easier now, his fingers spreading me open with a care that contrasts the hunger in his gaze. He watches me this time, not just my body but me—every quivering breath, every arch off the bed, every desperate sound that escapes me. His gaze sharpens when my back bows suddenly, toes curling as he crooks his fingers just right, finding that spot again with devastating precision. A high-pitched whine tears from my throat, and for a brief moment, I catch the faintest hint of a grin on his lips—small, private, victorious.

Then he pushes, testing the stretch, attempting to slide a fourth finger in. My body tenses, a sharp gasp spilling from me, and I reach up instinctively, resting my hand against his cheek. His touch stills immediately as his gaze snaps back to mine, amber eye searching my face. There’s no rush, no demand, only a question in the way he leans into my touch, as if waiting for my lead. The warmth of his cheek beneath my palm is grounding, and when I nod softly, I see his expression soften in return. For all his strength and dominance, the warrior monk is utterly at my mercy too.

“It’s okay, that’s good enough..”

Auron hesitates, doubt flickering in his expression as he opens his mouth to argue. Before he can, I tug him closer, my lips brushing against his ear as I whisper, slow and deliberate, “I want to be tight enough to feel every inch of you.” My breath fans against his skin, and the tension in his shoulders shifts, his resolve melting as his hand tightens on my waist.

Auron’s breath hitches, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he slowly withdraws his fingers. I clutch at him, whispering soft, hurried pleas that make him pause, his face inches from mine, our breaths tangling in the space between us. Reaching for the small tub, he coats his length with deliberate care, a quiet hiss escaping his lips. His movements falter briefly, hesitation flickering in his expression. I know the unspoken question—the weight of this moment—but I refuse to let it linger. Sliding my hand between us, I wrap my fingers around his length, stroking him with slow intent. His composure crumbles as he exhales shakily, both hands bracing against the bed to keep himself steady.

Auron follows my pull, his weight pressing closer, our breaths hitching as his tip brushes against my entrance. I shamelessly tease him, rubbing his head along the sensitive ring, and grin when his hips instinctively press forward, seeking more. The moment his tip catches and begins to push in, my body yields with a sharp gasp, the stretch sparking heat that makes my head spin. Auron’s face tightens, his expression strained for a heartbeat before it dissolves into something raw and undone. His eye darkens, glazed with overwhelming need, and the guttural groan that tears from his chest reverberates between us, primal and consuming. My lips part to tell him to slow, to ease in, but the words falter as he moves, lost to the urgent pull to claim, to feel, to drive into me completely.

He doesn’t stop.

The monk sinks in, his thick length stretching me inch by inch until he’s fully seated, his hips flush against mine. The weight of him, the sheer fullness, steals the breath from my lungs, leaving my mouth open in a silent cry. The sharp sting intertwines with a deep, heady pleasure, the sensations crashing over me in waves that make my body tremble. Above me, Auron exhales a shuddering groan, lost in the sensation of being buried so completely, his body instinctively chasing the heat that binds us together.

“Tight… you’re so damn tight,” Auron growls, his voice raw and strained, each word dripping with need. “Derek… I—” His breath catches, the rest of his thought lost to the overwhelming pull of our connection.

“You… absolute jerk,” I gasp, my words broken between panting breaths. Auron freezes, his stunned expression quickly giving way to guilt as realization dawns and he pales. His mouth opens, but no words come.

Before he can stammer out an apology, I hook my legs around his hips, keeping him buried, my nails dragging slowly down the expanse of his broad back. “You’re lucky I’ve done this before,” I murmur, voice laced with heat and challenge. “But now? You owe me.”

I tug him closer, tilting my head to nip at his jaw, a wicked grin curling my lips.

The older man’s cock throbs deep inside me as he regains his focus, steadying himself with a resolve that sends a shiver through me. His hips roll in a deliberate grind, every movement coaxing soft, breathless moans from my lips. When he angles just right and grazes my prostate, a sharp cry tears from me, my body arching into him. “Right there… Auron, please,” I plead, my voice breaking with need, spurring him on.

The monk’s shallow thrusts grow more precise, each one hitting that perfect spot that makes my toes curl and my breath hitch. His movements are careful at first, testing the waters, dragging himself out further with each stroke to learn what draws the most from me. He watches me intently, his eye dark with focus, drinking in every moan and desperate plea that spills from my lips. With every gasp and shudder I give him, his confidence swells, and his eagerness to please ignites something deeper between us.

Through half-lidded eyes, I take in every detail of Auron—his quiet intensity unlike any lover I’ve known. His groans are low, rough, and unrestrained, a stark contrast to the gentleness of his hands as they caress my flank and grip my hips with purpose. His brow furrows in concentration, beads of sweat trailing down the bridge of his nose, glinting faintly in the dim light. The wolf tail over his shoulder sways with each thrust, a beat behind the rhythm of his hips. The muted sounds of our bodies meeting—squelches and the slap of skin—fill the room, blending seamlessly with the soft moans we share. Where there was once hesitation, now every thrust is deliberate, his length finding the deepest parts of me with an unrelenting, confident rhythm.

As the heat coils tighter within me, I clutch the nape of his neck and pull him into a searing kiss, our lips colliding with an urgency that leaves no space between us. It’s one of many, yet each feels more desperate, more consuming than the last. His hips falter for just a moment when our mouths meet, but his resolve doesn’t waver. Auron grinds into me, the steady drag of his cock keeping me teetering on the edge as he pours every ounce of himself into the moment.

“Auron, Auron.. I’m s-so close. Don’t stop, please..”

Auron thrusts forward with raw intensity, his low growl vibrating through the air as he grips my hips and pulls me onto his cock with unyielding force. He shoves me down to meet his movements, driving deeper with every stroke. My gasp turns to a choked cry as my orgasm slams into me, thick ropes of cum spilling onto my stomach without a single touch. The sudden tightening of my body around him draws a guttural groan from the monk, and with one final, desperate thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and spills inside. His weight falters, arms trembling as he catches himself above me, then carefully lowers down, his warmth pressing against me. The slick heat between us is a distant thought as we lie there, our breaths heavy, his face buried in the crook of my neck. The quiet embrace of the night wraps around us, and for a moment, nothing else exists.

My hand drifts up, stroking his back in lazy circles, and I laugh softly as he shudders beneath my touch. Minutes pass with our bodies melded together, his weight sinking further into me, and for a moment, I’m convinced he’d stay there forever. When I pat his shoulder gently, he exhales heavily and slowly pulls himself away with a wince. Sitting up, he glances down at the mess we made, his hair wild and unruly, framing a face that blinks sleepily at me. I can’t help but snort, earning a tired raise of his brow.

A faint grin tugs at his lips as he gingerly climbs out of bed, his movements unsteady as he stumbles toward the bathroom. My eyelids grow heavy, blinking lazily when he returns with a damp hand towel in hand. I hum softly in appreciation as he kneels on the bed and gently wipes me down, the warmth of the towel soothing against my skin. He takes his time, careful and thorough, before turning the towel on himself. Once finished, he tosses it onto the floor without a second thought and slides back into bed.

Sleep tugs insistently at my mind as Auron wraps a strong arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. The heat of his body radiates along my back, a cocoon of warmth that lulls me further into depths of sleep. I mumble something incoherent, the words lost to the haze of exhaustion, and let myself drift off in the safety of his embrace.

—

The morning light sneaks through the curtains, faint but insistent, casting a soft glow over the room. It burns against my closed eyelids, coaxing me into wakefulness. Groaning, I turn over instinctively, burying my face into the firm, warm chest beside me and tucking my head under his chin. I blink sluggishly, letting the sleep fade, and then pause as the events of last night tumble back into my memory. Slowly, I lean back to look up at him.

Auron is already awake, his lone amber eye meeting mine with an unreadably calm gaze. His head rests on the pillow—our pillow, apparently, though the rest of the bed is absurdly empty behind me.

“Hi,” I say, my voice scratchy and unguarded.

The corner of his mouth quirks into a smirk. “Sleep well?”

“Uh-huh…” My voice trails off, and I curse how hoarse I sound. “You must’ve really worn me out,” I add dumbly.

Auron’s deep chuckle rumbles between us, low and warm. “That’s my line,” he whispers. His hand rests on my hip, his thumb idly stroking the skin beneath his fingers.

A traitorous warmth pools low in my stomach, and I fight the flush creeping up my neck.

Is he really flirting right now?

The sunlight edges across his face, tracing the lines of his jaw and the softness of his expression. There’s no tension, no guarded distance in his gaze—just quiet ease. He looks… peaceful, like someone who’s forgotten how heavy their burdens are. And damn it, he looks good.

I clear my throat awkwardly. “Well… I wanted to make sure your first time was something to remember. That’s all.” I try to sound casual, but the words feel ridiculous as soon as they leave my mouth.

Auron doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth, soft and deliberate, leaving behind a warm, tingling sensation that makes my thoughts scatter.

My brain all but short-circuits.

This was supposed to be nothing. Just for fun, I remind myself weakly, but the words are drowned out when I catch the look he gives me.

“Yes…” he murmurs as he pulls back, his voice as smooth as a low tide. “I wanted to thank you for that.”

There’s a spark in his eye now—the same rare glint of playfulness from the night before, catching me off guard once again. My half-formed worries vanish entirely when he adds, “Can I thank you by trying something?”

My lips twitch with the beginnings of a grin. “Depends… what are you thinking?”

Auron hums, the sound full of mischief as his fingers tighten just slightly on my hip. “You’ll see.”

—

It’s the sharp knock at the door that finally pulls us from bed, though it takes nearly an hour for Auron to be satisfied with his gratitude. I’m sprawled face-down, sheets clinging to my skin, trembling with the remnants of pleasure. Auron had spent the better part of that last hour with his tongue teasing me into a blissful, incoherent mess, and now every inch of my body feels boneless.

He’s the one to answer, of course, his deep voice calling out as he steps toward the door but maintains our privacy and speaks through it. There’s a short reply, feminine and familiar—the Al Bhed receptionist, most likely—letting us know our food is ready.

When her footsteps retreat, he turns back to me, and the self-satisfied grin on his face almost makes me want to throw something at him… if I could muster the strength. His eye gleams, openly admiring my thoroughly wrecked state.

“Shower’s mine first,” he announces, his tone laced with a teasing smugness.

I wave him off weakly, too drained to argue. “Take your time.” My voice is muffled, my cheek still pressed to the sheets.

The bathroom door clicks shut, and I sigh, rolling onto my back. My body protests with a dull ache, but I don’t mind—it’s a reminder of the way his hands, mouth, and body had all worked together to leave me in this state. Stretching my arms above my head, I feel the pull in my muscles, loose and satisfied.

A lazy smile spreads across my lips as I peel myself off the bed, sluggish but content. Moving about the room, I gather my clothes and equipment, laying them neatly across the mattress. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I let my gaze drift out the window. The morning light streams in, warm and golden, wrapping everything in a soft glow.

The sound of running water from the bathroom hums faintly in the background. I can’t help but let my thoughts wander to the man currently under the spray, remembering the way his grin had looked just moments before. The lingering warmth in my chest deepens.

Before long, Auron steps out, towelling his hair dry.

The monk’s expression lacks the sternness it held just yesterday, his features softened in a way that’s almost endearing. As I stand and stretch, the pull of his gaze lingers, unashamed, reminding me of my nakedness. Heat crawls up my neck, but there’s a flutter low in my stomach when he starts to reach for me as I pass him, his hand hovering as though on instinct. For a moment, I think he’ll follow through, but he hesitates, withdrawing and turning instead to busy himself with his gear.

I bite back a laugh, my cheeks aching from the grin that refuses to fade as I retreat to the bathroom.

—

I linger under the warm water, letting it wash away the sweat and pleasure from the morning. My thoughts wander until I hear the door open and click shut.

Did he leave..?

Stepping out of the tub, I grab a towel and dry myself off, only to pause when I catch a glimpse of my reflection. My chest is speckled with love bites, faint bruises blooming in shades of pink and purple. One in particular catches my attention—a bold hickey at the base of my neck. It’s larger, darker, and sensitive to the touch. Heat creeps into my cheeks as I recall his low, rumbling voice.

“Are you trying to mark me?”

“Yes.”

I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips. I slip out of the bathroom and toss the towel onto the bed. Dressing slowly, I glance at the red haori still draped over the nodachi against the wall. 

My head snaps to the door when it swings open. Auron strides back into the room as I finish buttoning my vest. He’s partially dressed—black pants hugging his frame, boots strapped neatly, and his tank taut against his chest. My eyes roam appreciatively over his form. He carries two plates of food, setting them down on the table at the foot of the bed with a calmness that feels out of place for a man who spent the night unravelling me.

It all feels strangely domestic.

Auron snaps on his chest guard and grabs his haori, swinging it over his broad shoulders, methodically tightening the belts while I secure my own weapon and strap into my own gear. Without a word, I take both plates, rounding the bed to sit on the edge. He glances back, something unspoken passing between us as he joins me, taking the plate I offer.

We eat in comfortable silence, the quiet punctuated only by the clinking of utensils. No words are needed—the simplicity of sharing this moment feels profound. A night of passion has melted into a tranquil morning, and I can’t help but marvel at how easy it all feels.

Before long, our plates are cleared, and we take them back to the front desk. The lobby is empty, the morning hush broken only by Kimahri entering through the front doors, his massive frame moving with quiet grace.

Auron steps ahead, handing off the plates to the woman at the check-in desk.

“Hey, Kimahri, where’d you end up sleeping?” I ask casually, stretching my arms behind my head.

The blue Ronso glances at me, his tail flicking lazily behind him. “Roof,” he replies simply, his deep voice rumbling.

“Ah.” I nod, the answer familiar. When I’d first met him in Besaid, I’d felt bad about him having to sleep outside, assuming it was out of necessity rather than choice. It wasn’t until later that I realized how natural it was for a Ronso, their thick fur acting as insulation against the cold. To Kimahri, the open air was likely the most comfortable place to rest.

But then I notice something odd. His gaze lingers on me longer than usual, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as his nose begins to twitch. My stomach drops. His attention shifts subtly, glancing between me and…. someone behind me.

Auron.

I shuffle awkwardly, heat creeping up my neck. How sharp is a Ronso’s sense of smell, anyway?

Kimahri tilts his head slightly, as though considering something, but thankfully, he doesn’t say a word. Instead, his eyes flick to the wall, feigning sudden interest in a decorative sconce or maybe just sparing me from the embarrassment.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Auron remains blissfully unaware, standing idly by the door, his arms crossed as he waits for the rest of the party to gather.

Kimahri’s tail swishes again, and I swear there’s a faint knowing glint in his eye as he avoids looking at me.

It’s a few minutes later when Wakka shuffles out of the hallway, glancing around like he’s just emerged from a battlefield. The heavy bags under his eyes tell the story of a sleepless night. By contrast, Tidus strides out moments later, looking fresh-faced and annoyingly full of energy, as if he’s spent the night in a luxury spa instead of a cheap inn.

The blonde flashes a grin and walks up to me. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” I reply, amused. “How’d you sleep?”

Tidus cackles, leaning in like he’s about to share a great secret. “Like a babe. I don’t know what you were talking about. I didn’t wake up once from Wakka’s so-called ‘snoring.’” He air quotes with exaggerated flair.

I chuckle, throwing a glance over my shoulder at Auron. His face is mostly hidden behind his high collar, but his brows furrow in a way that suggests he’s highly entertained. The subtle shake of his shoulders—almost imperceptible—tells me he’s quietly listening in.

“Well,” I say, turning back to Tidus, “I heard from a very trustworthy source that you’re actually the menace.”

Tidus lets out an indignant squawk. “What!? No, I’m not!”

I gesture subtly at Wakka, who’s trudging over like a man carrying the weight of the world—or at least the weight of one sleepless night. “Poor Wakka looks like he barely slept a wink.”

Tidus snickers. “He kept whining about how uncomfortable the beds were. Said it was like sleeping on rocks.”

Wakka groans as he finally reaches us, rubbing the back of his neck. “S’true! S’like I was layin’ on a bunch o’ blitzballs. No support, ya?”

Shaking my head with a grin, I quip, “Right. Well, the bed had more than enough bounce to me. It was perfectly soft.”

Auron, behind us, clears his throat suddenly. I glance back, catching the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, though he pretends to adjust his sword. Tidus narrows his eyes at me suspiciously, but Wakka is too busy lamenting his back pain to notice.

“Soft, huh?” Tidus teases, voice dripping with curiosity.

“Yep,” I reply breezily, clapping a hand on his shoulder and steering him toward the door before he can pry further. “Maybe the two of you just need better taste in mattresses.”

The orange-haired man sizes me up with a tired smirk. “Ya? Well, what about you, Sir Auron?” he calls over my shoulder. “How’d you sleep?”

Behind me, the warrior monk grunts, and I feel his eyes lock on the back of my head. The hairs on my nape prickle, and I shift my gaze to the wall, determined to ignore the warmth pooling in my stomach.

“It was pleasant,” Auron rumbles after a pause. His voice dips slightly, almost contemplative. “The best sleep I’ve had in years.”

The pointed tone in his words has my cheeks heating, and I fight to keep my expression neutral.

Tidus, ever the curious one, steps closer to Auron with a sly grin. “Hey…”

My eyes trail after him as he stops in front of the monk, bending down to peer up at Auron’s face like a child inspecting a puzzle. Auron frowns, his brows furrowing deeper as he tilts his head down to meet the blonde’s gaze.

“What?” he growls.

“You… look happy,” Tidus states bluntly, his voice tinged with wonder.

Auron’s scowl deepens, and with a flick of his wrist, he shoves the kid back a step. “It’s weird!” Tidus exclaims, stumbling but laughing.

Before I can stop myself, my lips twitch into a small, private smile aimed at Auron. He catches the expression and huffs, his expression softening just slightly before turning his attention elsewhere.

Wakka hums beside me, leaning down with a mischievous glint in his tired eyes. “Wow…” he mutters, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “You must be great to share a bed with. Can I sleep with you next?”

The words catch me completely off guard, and my head snaps toward him, wide-eyed. Innocent or not, the comment lingers a beat too long, and before I can even react, a low growl rumbles from behind me.

“No,” Auron says sharply, his tone firm enough to make Wakka straighten slightly.

Wakka blinks, clearly startled, then pouts. “Wha—? No fair. Tidus kept rollin’ around and kickin’ me all night.” He waves a hand in mock frustration. “Bad enough it was in an Al Bhed bed… in an Al Bhed room… with Al Bhed food.” His complaints trail off as his gaze sweeps the room disdainfully.

Shifting my weight between my feet, I sense the tension radiating from Auron at Wakka’s ignorant remark. The monk’s stony silence is palpable, and I ignore the faint flutter in my chest at the thought of him getting defensive—possessive, even.

“I think I’m good,” I say hoarsely, trying to defuse the awkwardness. “Auron… doesn’t snore.” The words feel lame the moment they leave my mouth, but Wakka seems too tired to question them.

He frowns, ultimately giving up with a shrug, while Tidus remains stubbornly planted in front of Auron. The blonde stares up at the older man, his curiosity as bright as the morning sun streaming through the room. Auron ignores him, studiously fastening the belts on his haori, but I catch the faintest twitch of his lips before he turns away entirely.

The door swings open with force, startling the group as an older man with long blonde hair strides in, nearly colliding with Tidus. He adjusts the goggles perched on his head and smooths down the bright yellow jacket hanging loosely from his shoulders, its open front exposing a toned chest. Two orange belts dangle from his waist like suspenders, complementing his dark khakis.

“Byntuh sa,” he says casually, brushing past Tidus.

Tidus stumbles but quickly steadies himself. “Sorry?”

The man blinks and offers a sheepish smile. “Ah, forgive me, sir. I meant to say, ‘pardon me,’ but it came out in Al Bhed.”

“Oh, you’re an Al Bhed?” Tidus asks, tilting his head curiously. Behind him, Wakka stiffens, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at the newcomer.

“Mh-hm.” The man nods. “I am Rin, owner of this establishment. Hela du sad

Tidus glances at me for help. “Huh?”

“It means, ‘nice to meet you,’” He translates with a small sigh.

The ace lights up. “Ah! Well, helly doo sad wee to you, too!”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, groaning softly as Rin chuckles politely. “If you are interested, Al Bhed primers can be found all over Spira. Collecting them and learning our language might be fun.”

Wakka scoffs loudly, but Rin continues unfazed. “Here, let me give you one to commemorate our meeting.” He reaches into his jacket and hands Tidus a small book. “Though you might want to be careful where you speak our language.”

Yuna and Lulu enter during the exchange, the summoner murmuring her thanks to the check-in clerk as she hands over their plates. Lulu, as composed as ever, approaches quietly, her gaze flicking between Rin and the rest of us.

Tidus, undeterred, rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I hear Al Bhed aren’t liked much…” The words barely leave his mouth before his eyes widen, and he slaps a hand over his lips. “Oh, sorry!”

Rin’s expression shifts, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “It is a shame,” he agrees quietly, but there’s no bitterness in his tone.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierces the air, shattering the moment. Everyone jerks toward the entrance as the sound of frantic footsteps echoes outside. Yuna hurries to our side, concern etched on her face.

“That’s our cue,” Auron growls, already gripping the hilt of his blade. He casts a sharp glance over the group. “Let’s go.”

“Oh! Wait,” Rin calls, reaching into his jacket again. He hands Tidus a potion. “Take this. It is a ferocious beast—be prepared!”

Tidus accepts the potion with a quick nod of thanks before we all charge toward the door, the tension in the air sharpening with every step.

Chapter Text

The area outside the inn was eerily quiet, the usual chatter of travelers replaced by an uneasy stillness that set Derek’s nerves on edge. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made every shadow seem alive. As the group stepped into the open, their boots crunching against the dirt path, Derek instinctively drew his gunblade. The metallic scrape echoed in the silence, and with a satisfying click, the weapon shifted into its bladed form. Its familiar weight grounded him as his gaze swept the horizon, searching for any sign of the Chocobo Eater. Only the faint rustle of leaves and the distant cry of a bird accompanied them.

“If this is the fiend the Chocobo Knights were referring to, our best chance would be to find the Chocobos first,” Lulu reasoned, her calm tone cutting through the tension. “To the Chocobo corral.”

They moved quickly, skirting around the Al Bhed shop, but the corral was empty when they arrived. The faint smell of splintered wood and churned earth lingered in the air. As the group fanned out cautiously to investigate, Auron stepped beside Derek, his sharp eyes scanning the battered enclosure. The once-sturdy fence lay in ruins, its doors smashed apart, jagged planks dangling limply from broken hinges.

“You think the Chocobos did this?” Derek asked, frowning.

Auron knelt beside one of the hinges, swinging it idly as it flapped uselessly.

“It’s possible, if they were fleeing from the fiend. Or it was the fiend itself,” he replied, his voice steady and deliberate.

The tension deepened as a chorus of high-pitched chirps echoed from the dense forest beyond. The sound grew louder, closer, until the very ground trembled beneath the weight of several Chocobos bursting from the trees in a panicked stampede.

Before anyone could react, a massive hand shot out from the shadows, snatching a straggler mid-flight. The Chocobo let out a piercing screech, flailing desperately as it was dragged into the open. The grotesque form of the Chocobo Eater emerged, illuminated in the early morning light. It held the struggling bird by the neck, its cries swallowed by the guttural roar of the fiend.

In one swift motion, the beast launched itself into the air, landing heavily on the roof of the Al Bhed shop. The building shuddered violently under its weight. It shook its captive like a toy, letting out another deafening roar that sent shivers through the group.

“I take it that’s the fiend we’re looking for!” Derek shouted, his voice carrying across the clearing. Despite the bravado in his tone, the tension tightening his chest was impossible to ignore.

The Chocobo Eater turned toward the group with unnerving clarity, its hulking frame casting an enormous shadow as it landed with a bone-jarring thud. The ground quaked beneath its weight, and the Chocobo it had been holding scrambled free, sprinting off into the distance. Its frantic chirps faded into the woods, leaving behind an oppressive silence.

Derek felt his stomach churn at the sight of the creature. Its grotesque proportions were wrong in every conceivable way. Long, sinewy arms dangled far past its stubby, malformed legs, giving it an almost crab-like appearance. Its gaping mouth was filled with jagged teeth, the upper row lined with enormous, tusk-like fangs. A forked tongue slithered between them, dripping with saliva. Stray yellow feathers were lodged between its teeth, grim reminders of its earlier prey. Beneath its mottled skin, a ridged spine twitched unnervingly, as though alive and writhing of its own accord.

With a blood-curdling roar, the fiend lunged forward. Its unnatural speed caught the group off guard. Derek stumbled back instinctively, his pulse racing. Auron, however, moved without hesitation. The monk stepped into the creature’s path, his stance solid, his massive sword raised to meet the fiend’s charge. The clash was deafening—steel met flesh with a resounding impact. Auron held firm, his muscles straining as he absorbed the force of the attack, though it pushed him back several steps.

The rest of the party sprang into action, fanning out to surround the beast. Its dull, yellow eyes flicked between them, calculating and predatory. Wakka was the first to act, hurling his electrified blitzball with precision. The ball struck the creature’s head with a sharp crackle of lightning. It reeled momentarily but quickly shook off the attack, letting out a guttural roar that reverberated through the clearing.

The fiend retaliated with terrifying ferocity, lunging toward Wakka. He tried to brace himself, but the sheer power of the blow sent him hurtling backward. He hit the ground with a heavy thud, groaning in pain.

Lulu responded immediately, her voice steady as she chanted an incantation. A glimmering shard of ice formed in the air before slamming into the fiend, enveloping it in a chilling gust of frost. For a brief moment, the creature’s movements slowed, its skin crackling under the ice’s biting cold. But it broke free with a defiant growl, shaking off the spell as if it were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

Derek wasn’t about to waste another second. With a swift motion, he readied his gunblade. The familiar click of the mechanism settling into place steadied him. He raised the weapon and fired three quick shots. The first two struck their mark, piercing into the fiend’s grotesque face. But before he could get a third hit, the creature raised a massive arm, shielding itself from further harm.

Suddenly, the beast shifted its attention to Tidus, who stood furthest from the group. With a feral snarl, it leapt toward him in an arc that seemed too fast for something so large. Tidus managed to roll out of the way at the last moment, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow. The impact of the leap sent debris flying and knocked Tidus off balance, sending him skidding across the dirt until he landed closer to the others.

Then, in an instant, the Chocobo Eater’s enormous body twisted toward Yuna, who stood on the opposite side of the battlefield. With a sickening squawk, it raised one of its grotesque arms and slammed the ground with devastating force. The impact sent a violent shockwave rippling outward, launching Yuna into the air. She landed hard, her small frame crumpling in a heap as the force of the blow knocked the breath from her lungs.

“Yuna!” Tidus shouted, panic lacing his voice as he started toward her.

But Kimahri was already there, moving with the swiftness and precision of a guardian. Without hesitation, he hoisted her into his arm and carried her toward safety.

Derek’s attention snapped back to the fiend as it loomed above the party. He quickly realized the creature wasn’t simply attacking—it was corralling them. Its movements were deliberate, herding them together, driving them closer and closer to the edge of—

“So, we’re to be pushed off a cliff,” Auron muttered, his tone low and irritated. His sharp gaze flicked to the looming drop just behind them as the fiend’s massive feet rumbled closer, shaking the ground beneath them.

“What now? We’ve got a cliff at our backs!” Tidus yelled, his voice climbing with rising panic.

“Derek—?” Lulu began, her calm veneer cracking ever so slightly.

“On it,” Derek interrupted before she could finish.

He raised his hand to the sky, and the earth beneath their feet responded in kind. A surge of magic rippled outward, and the ground came alive. Clockwork gears materialized and magically traced along the soil, massive and intricate, their ethereal surfaces catching the light as they clicked into place. The grand design formed a massive clock that encircled the group, its hands spinning slowly at first, then gaining speed. Faster and faster they turned until, with a loud and resounding click, they struck twelve.

The spell’s effect was immediate. A rush of energy surged through the party, heightening their reflexes and sharpening their senses. Without a word, they scattered, each moving with unnatural speed and precision. The fiend lunged, swiping furiously at its prey, but its attacks met only empty air as the group darted out of its reach.

“You have this for one minute! Make it count!” Derek called out, his voice ringing sharp with urgency.

Kimahri, Tidus, and Derek were the first to charge forward, their weapons moving in unison as they struck at the fiend’s exposed limbs. Each slash landed with precision, forcing the creature to shift its focus toward them. Its grotesque arms swayed in a sluggish response, lagging behind by several seconds before it could react. The three darted in and out, keeping the fiend’s fury squarely on them, while Auron seized the opportunity. With a powerful downward strike, his blade connected with a resounding impact, sending the fiend staggering backward.

For a brief moment, it felt as though victory was within reach. The creature collapsed to the ground, its massive body writhing as it struggled to regain its footing.

But Lulu didn’t wait to celebrate. Her voice rang out, sharp and commanding, as she summoned a torrent of flames. The spell erupted across the fiend’s flesh, engulfing it in fire. The creature let out an ear-splitting screech, its grotesque body convulsing as its skin bubbled and sizzled under the intense heat.

“What—? We won! What are you doing?” Tidus protested, confusion cutting through the moment of triumph.

Lulu turned to him, her glare cold and unyielding. “Do you see pyreflies anywhere?” she snapped, her voice sharp and laced with urgency.

Her words struck Derek like a cold shock. He glanced at the fiend, realizing the truth. There were no pyreflies—the telltale sign of a defeated fiend. Not a single one floated in the air.

“It’s not dead!” Derek shouts, his voice cutting through the confusion.

“Attack now! Push it back!” Auron barked, charging forward without hesitation, his sword raised for another strike.

Derek snapped magic into existence, and with a swift motion, he conjured fire that coiled around his fingertips. The air around him shimmered with heat as he launched the flames toward Auron’s blade, imbuing the monk’s weapon with fiery energy. Auron’s strike hit with devastating force, the combined power of steel and fire sending the fiend stumbling further back.

But the creature wasn’t finished. It let out a guttural growl, its body trembling as it rose once more. Its glowing yellow eyes blazed with fury, and its movements grew more erratic, each step shaking the ground beneath them.

The fiend raised its massive arms high, readying another devastating shockwave, but Yuna was quicker. Calling on the white magic in her arsenal, she conjured a shimmering barrier of light just as the impact struck. The shockwave rippled outward, but the protective shield absorbed its force, leaving the group unharmed.

Wakka and Tidus seized the moment. Wakka spun his blitzball in his hands, dark energy swirling around it, before hurling it with precision. The ball hurtled through the air, striking the fiend squarely between its glowing yellow eyes. Blinded, the creature let out a guttural howl, thrashing its massive arms wildly in a fit of rage.

It was all the opening Tidus needed. The blonde flipped and closed the gap between himself and the fiend. His blade gleamed in the sunlight as he brought it down in a powerful strike. The fiend staggered back but remained defiant, its roars shaking the very ground beneath them.

Derek didn’t hesitate and followed up. Tightening his grip on his gunblade, he channeled glacial magic through the weapon, feeling the icy energy surge within him. With a focused strike, he drove the blade into the earth, and a jagged line of ice spikes erupted forward, racing toward the fiend. The frozen glaives embedded themselves deep into its legs, locking the creature in place. Frost rapidly spread across its body, freezing it solid where it stood.

From behind, Lulu’s commanding voice cut through the chaos, an ancient language of destruction flowing effortlessly from her lips. Her small doll leaped from her arm, joining her in the ritual, its movements synchronized with her incantation. Lulu raised her hands high before sweeping them down in a perfect arc. The immediate area around the fiend erupted in flames, each explosion like a miniature star igniting. The magic consumed the fiend, its agonized screeches echoing as its charred flesh began to peel away.

Auron and Kimahri advanced with deadly precision next. Their enhanced speed made them nearly impossible to follow. Kimahri leaped high, his lance gleaming as it plunged into the fiend’s forehead with a sickening crunch. The beast reared back, exposing its neck as it writhed in pain.

Auron moved in without hesitation. His massive blade swung in a swift, deadly strike, severing the fiend’s neck. The creature’s headless form collapsed with an earth-shaking thud, the ice pinning it in place shattering into a mist of frost.

At last, the fiend’s monstrous body crumbled into nothingness, its form breaking apart into a shimmering cascade of pyreflies. The glowing lights drifted upward, serene and weightless, like freed souls ascending to the heavens. For a moment, the battlefield was silent, the tension finally ebbing as the team stood victorious.

Rin and his crew emerged cautiously from the Al Bhed shop, their steps deliberate and steady as they surveyed the aftermath. Rin’s eyes widened at the sight of the battlefield, but his expression quickly softened into a smile. “Thank you,” he called out to the group, his voice warm but laced with relief. “You’ve saved us all.”

Derek’s gaze, however, lingered on the edge of the cliff, his thoughts wandering to what other greater fiends might be lurking throughout their journey.

A sharp chirp broke the silence behind them, drawing their attention. Elma, one of the Chocobo Knights, strode forward hurriedly, her armor clinking faintly with each step. “Summoners and guardians!” she exclaimed, her voice brimming with admiration. “I came as fast as I could when I heard about the giant fiend. I saw the fight. I was impressed!”

As the others began to sheath their weapons and take a moment to collect themselves, Derek let out a sigh, his body slouching slightly from the exertion. He tried—and failed—not to flush when Auron’s imposing frame suddenly loomed over him like a storm cloud, casting a shadow that seemed to shrink the world around them. The others appeared too preoccupied to notice, giving them a moment of relative privacy.

“What?” Derek asked, his voice quiet and careful, as though afraid to disturb the fragile moment.

Auron grunted, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “You used time magic again.”

Derek’s expression softened, understanding the source of the monk’s unease. 

“It was just a haste spell,” Derek replied, his voice dropping to a whisper. “A wider version, that’s all. It wasn’t life-threatening like last time.”

Auron lingered, his presence steady and grounding, as though he wasn’t ready to let the moment slip away. It was Derek who moved first, clearing his throat softly to dispel the tension. The monk’s hand fell reluctantly from Derek’s back, but the touch lingered, a fraction of a second too long. Auron glanced at his hand as though surprised by its betrayal, the faintest flush creeping across his stoic features.

He looked away quickly, the mask of calm resolve slipping back into place, though not before Derek caught the flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. For a moment, everything around them felt distant, the world narrowed to just the two of them before the moment dissolved into the quiet hum of recovery around the group.

When Auron finally stepped back, his broad shoulders shifted away to reveal Lulu standing at a distance. Her sharp gaze was fixed on them, a curious glint in her dark red eyes. The weight of the moment hung heavy as Derek instinctively turned away, quickly schooling his expression. He fought to suppress the flush creeping up his neck, resisting the urge to glance back. Even without looking, he could feel Lulu’s scrutiny from afar, her unspoken questions pressing against his thoughts. He wasn’t ready to face whatever she might say.

Rin broke the tension, his polite voice cutting through the stillness. “Have you an interest in renting some chocobos? As a token of our gratitude, the first time is free of charge. Please ask the attendant if you wish to rent.” He gestured toward the Chocobo attendant, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Thank you so much for saving the chocobos!” the attendant exclaimed, her voice bright with gratitude.

Across the corral, Tidus’ voice rang out, filled with childlike excitement. “Yes! Finally!” He threw his arms up in triumph, practically skipping toward a particularly feisty Chocobo. His enthusiasm was infectious, even if it made him look slightly ridiculous as he nearly tripped over his own feet. The attendant, unfazed by his antics, continued rambling cheerfully about how lucky they were to have such a capable group of heroes. “These birds managed to avoid the fiend just long enough for you all to arrive, the three of them drew the fiend away from their siblings. You’ve got yourselves quite a crew!”

Derek couldn’t help but smirk at the spectacle as Tidus hauled himself onto the Chocobo. The bird squawked loudly in protest, flapping its wings and trying its best to buck him off. The sight was almost too much to bear without laughing, and Yuna’s soft laughter soon reached his ears—a gentle, melodic sound of genuine amusement. She clapped her hands together, watching as Tidus managed to calm the squawking bird with a few soft words and a reassuring pat.

The Chocobo attendant turned to the rest of the group, a tired but genuine smile on her face. “Alright! The chocobos can carry two people at a time, and we’ve got enough for everyone!”

Before she could finish her sentence, Kimahri had already begun striding toward the Highroad, his large form cutting through the group with an air of purposeful detachment. He didn’t pause to acknowledge the attendant’s words, his focus already set on the path ahead.

“Ah! Uhm… sir!” the attendant called after Kimahri, her voice tinged with concern as she watched him stride off without a backward glance. Lulu, standing beside her, raised an eyebrow at his departure but seemed unsurprised by his actions.

“Don’t mind him,” Derek said with a casual shrug, leaning slightly toward the worker to reassure her. “He does as he likes. He’ll be fine.”

The attendant hesitated for a moment, her expression uncertain, but ultimately shrugged and muttered something under her breath before returning to her duties.

Tidus, still grinning from ear to ear, reached down from his Chocobo, extending a hand to Yuna. She hesitated for a brief moment before shyly accepting, her cheeks pinkening as she climbed up behind him. The two set off at a gentle trot, weaving playfully through the corral. Meanwhile, Wakka was locked in a losing battle with his own Chocobo, muttering a string of colorful curses as the bird bucked and jerked beneath him. Behind him, Lulu wore a bemused frown, scolding him lightly for his lack of composure.

Derek turned to Auron, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “First bedmates, now this?” he teased, his voice low enough to avoid drawing the others’ attention.

Auron let out a noncommittal grunt, his gaze shifting briefly away from the group. Derek didn’t miss the faint flicker of a blush crossing the older man’s features. The monk’s composure wavered for only a heartbeat before his mask slipped back into place. Behind them, Tidus and Yuna were clearly enjoying themselves, laughing as their Chocobo pranced about. Wakka, meanwhile, continued his struggle, prompting a quiet chuckle from Derek.

The attendant soon returned with another Chocobo, this one unusually calm. Its dark eyes locked onto Derek, studying him in a way that felt almost bizarre.

Derek blinked, his gaze narrowing slightly as recognition dawned. This Chocobo—it was the same one that had narrowly escaped the fiend’s grasp during their earlier battle. He reached up, his hand brushing lightly over the bird’s neck, and his fingers found a subtle dent in its feathers—a lingering reminder of the chaos it had survived.

“Well, well,” Derek murmured softly, stroking the Chocobo’s back with a gentle touch. “Glad you made it out alright, buddy.” The bird let out a quiet chirp, leaning into his hand as though it understood.

The Chocobo chirped happily, nudging at his hand with its beak, flapping its wings in what seemed like an affectionate gesture. 

The attendant’s voice broke through Derek’s thoughts, a surprised note in her tone. “He likes you! He doesn’t usually socialize much, so I’m surprised he’s behaving at all.”

“What’s his name?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow, still stroking the bird’s neck.

“Onion,” she replied, her smile wide as she beamed proudly at the bird. 

“…Why Onion?” Derek couldn’t help but probe, his disbelief clearly etched on his face.

The attendant laughed, a soft, amused sound. “He kept pecking at this onion when he was a baby. Couldn’t get enough of it.”

Derek glanced down at Onion, who gave him another nudge as if in agreement. The man shrugged, half-smiling. “Hm.”

“We need to go,” Auron’s voice was a gravelly reminder that time was ticking. “They’ll leave us behind.”

With a resigned sigh, Derek hooked his leg over the saddle and swung the other one up, settling himself comfortably onto Onion’s back. The Chocobo remained still, as if understanding the importance of the moment, and he gave it a soft pat, murmuring a quiet “Thank you” under his breath.

Auron followed soon after, his broad form shifting to sit behind Derek, his presence casting a familiar warmth over his back. Derek inhaled sharply when he felt the monk’s body press against his, a quiet tension sparking between them. The attendant gave Onion a quick pat before he started his steady trot. Derek tried to focus on the road ahead, but the feel of Auron’s warm breath ghosting over the back of his neck made it hard to stay composed. 

Derek was already fighting the strange flutter in his chest when Auron’s gloved hand reached around to grip the reins. But then, the monk’s other hand slipped around his middle, pulling him back against the broad expanse of his chest.

He swallowed hard, unable to resist the tension building between them. “Uh… you getting comfortable back there?” Derek asked under his breath, the words escaping more breathlessly than he intended.

Auron didn’t answer immediately. Instead, Derek felt the faintest brush of lips against the nape of his neck, an almost imperceptible kiss. When the monk finally spoke, his voice was low and intimate, carrying the weight of something unspoken. “Very.”

Derek’s heart skipped a beat, and he forced himself to keep his eyes ahead, his mind racing with words he wasn’t sure he wanted to say. “When I… when I asked for your company in bed, I wasn’t expecting you to, well, continue to pursue this. Me, I mean.”

The words felt clumsy, tumbling out before he could stop them. He felt Auron’s arm loosen slightly around his waist, the man behind him growing momentarily still.

“I mean, most of the time it’s just… one-night stands for me. A little fun, like I said. So, you don’t have to go the extra mile and, you know, continue to flirt,” Derek added, his face heating. The discomfort rose with each passing second. He hadn’t meant to admit any of that, hadn’t meant to acknowledge the feelings he’d been trying so hard to push away.

Auron remained silent, and the quiet stretched between them, heavy and uncertain. Derek felt the weight of it settle deep in his chest, tightening with every second that passed. Desperate to fill the silence, he kept rambling, as if the words might fix whatever fragile thread had unraveled between them.

“I understand…” Auron’s voice finally broke the quiet, a low murmur almost lost beneath the steady clop of Onion’s feet.

The words landed like a blow. A sharp pang of disappointment twisted in Derek’s gut, but he couldn’t bring himself to respond immediately. His thoughts were a tangled mess, knotted with emotions he wasn’t ready to untangle.

“Yeah…” he said finally, his voice distant, almost resigned.

Auron seemed to hesitate behind him, the stillness of his body betraying his own uncertainty. After a moment, his voice softened further. “My apologies if I overstepped. This… was I not supposed to…?” He trailed off, the words hanging unfinished in the air.

A breath escaped Derek, soft but laced with a resigned chuckle. “I wasn’t expecting it. That stuff is reserved for… something more.”

The silence that followed was thick, but this time it felt different. Derek wasn’t sure if it was the weight of the monk’s presence or his own confusion that made it feel so hard to breathe.

Auron’s silence stretched between them, heavy and palpable, broken only by the rhythmic sound of Onion’s claws on the dirt path. Derek thought Auron might let the conversation drop entirely. But then, the arm around his waist tightened ever so slightly, anchoring him in place, as though keeping him from slipping away—physically or otherwise.

“Something more…” Auron echoed, his deep voice quiet and contemplative. He leaned forward just slightly, his breath warm against the back of Derek’s neck. “It’s alright if you see it only as something fleeting. Something… fun.”

The words caught Derek off guard, his heart stumbling in his chest. He turned his head just enough to catch Auron’s gaze out of the corner of his eye. The monk’s amber eye met his, unflinching and resolute. There was a gravity to them, a weight that seemed to carry the burden of years—something ancient, something that didn’t quite belong here.

“I… don’t know what to say to that,” Derek admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Auron replied, his tone steady but softened by something unspoken, something that lingered just beyond Derek’s grasp. “But I won’t pretend that what we did was trivial. Not to me.”

For a moment, Derek wanted to press further, to ask about the meaning behind those words, the heaviness in Auron’s voice. But there was something about the monk—something unreachable, like a shadow that would slip through his fingers if he tried too hard to hold it. Instead, Derek nodded silently, unsure of what else to do, as Auron’s gaze lingered just a moment longer before retreating into its usual stoic calm.

A knot tightened in Derek’s chest, a storm of emotions he wasn’t prepared to confront. This wasn’t what he’d wanted when he’d first invited Auron into his bed—he’d sought something simple, a fleeting distraction without entanglements. Yet here was Auron, unassumingly breaking through the walls Derek had spent years fortifying. Worse still, the monk had given him an out, urging him to see it as nothing, even as he quietly admitted it meant more to him.

“You’re making this hard,” Derek murmured, a faint, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips.

Auron’s lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “I’ve been known to do that.”

Derek let out a soft, genuine laugh, the sound light yet carrying an edge of release. The tension didn’t completely dissipate, but it shifted—no longer jagged, but something warmer, softer, and undeniably intimate.

They rode in silence for a time, the golden hues of the rising sun casting long shadows across the Highroad. The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable now; it felt like an understanding had settled between them, unspoken but deeply felt.

Finally, Derek broke the silence, his voice hesitant. “I’m not… good at this. Letting people in for more than…” He gestured vaguely, the words trailing off.

Auron’s hand, still resting lightly on his waist, gave a firm, reassuring squeeze. “You shouldn’t. Just… allow me to indulge myself, there’s no need for you to return it.”

Derek glanced back at him, searching his face for any trace of doubt or insincerity. But all he found was quiet honesty, steady and unyielding, like the man himself. Auron wasn’t trying to push him, wasn’t demanding anything more than Derek was ready to give. That honesty alone made it harder to ignore the pull he felt toward him.

The monk’s words lingered in the air, unspoken truths threading between them, too heavy to acknowledge but too profound to dismiss.

—

The group reached the end of the Highroad as the sun rose to its highest in the sky, painting the landscape in hues in vibrant colors. Their chocobos trotted lazily along the path, the mood calm and unhurried. Ahead, a young man in Crusader armor sat atop an equally armored chocobo. His posture was tense, and his gaze darted to them warily as they approached.

He raised a hand, signaling for them to stop. “You have to leave your chocobos here! Come on, everyone off!” His tone was firm, though the nervous edge in his voice betrayed his unease.

Derek swung his leg over Onion’s side, dismounting with practiced ease. Auron followed as he slid off the chocobo’s saddle. Onion chirped softly, and Derek moved to the bird’s front, reaching out to scratch beneath its beak. The chocobo leaned into the touch, its feathers fluffing slightly in contentment.

“Maybe we’ll meet again, Onion,” Derek murmured, chuckling at the thought of its name, his voice quiet and sincere. He gave the chocobo a final pat, meeting its large, intelligent eyes. “Can you find your way back?”

Onion chirped in response, flapping its wings once as if to assure him. As the other two chocobos bolted back down the path, already eager to return to familiar grounds, Onion lingered. For a moment, it seemed reluctant to leave, its gaze lingering on Derek. Then, with one last trill, it turned and ran off after its companions.

The Crusader cleared his throat awkwardly, drawing Derek’s attention back. “Uh, sorry about that. Orders, you know. Name’s Clasko,” the young man said, offering a polite nod. His demeanor was less commanding now, almost shy.

“Clasko,” Derek echoed, “name’s Derek”, nodding in acknowledgment. The young man fidgeted slightly before glancing over his shoulder, muttering under his breath.

“Gee, Captain Lucil and Elma should have been here by now. What’s taking Elma so long?”

Derek tilted his head at the mention of Elma but didn’t press further. His attention was quickly drawn to the commotion erupting a short distance away. On the right, raised voices cut through the calm as two familiar figures argued with another Crusader standing guard by a set of large cages.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m a summoner!” Dona’s voice rang out, sharp with frustration. She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring daggers at the Crusader barring her path.

“Sorry, ma’am! No exceptions!” The Crusader saluted stiffly, his face a mask of polite defiance as he avoided eye contact with the irate summoner.

Dona stepped closer, her glare intensifying as she jabbed a finger in his direction. “You dare impede a summoner’s pilgrimage?” she demanded, her voice dripping with indignation.

The Crusader’s resolve didn’t falter, though his discomfort was evident in the way his jaw tightened. “Sorry, ma’am! No exceptions!” he repeated, his tone unwavering.

“Useless! Absolutely useless!” Dona huffed, crossing her arms and turning her nose up at him as if he weren’t worth the effort. Her guardian, Barthello, loomed behind her, looking uneasy but silent as always.

The group approached cautiously, Derek frowning at the exchange. The words exchanged didn’t sit right with him, the tension in the air palpable. It seemed even summoners were being denied passage.

Derek exchanged a glance with Auron, who watched the scene with his usual stoic expression, though a subtle narrowing of his eye hinted at his displeasure. Yuna and the others followed closely, equally curious and concerned as they drew nearer to Dona and Barthello.

The older summoner turned sharply at the sound of their approach, her lips curling into a disdainful sneer. Her gaze swept over the group, and with a scoff, she tilted her chin up. “Oh, it’s you,” Dona said, her voice dripping with condescension. “As you can see, not even summoners can pass. But they’ll call on us in the end. Just wait and see.” Her tone was confident, arrogant even, as if she already foresaw her inevitable importance.

She turned back toward her towering guardian, Barthello, who stood at attention, his muscular frame taut with devotion. Dona raised a brow, her expression suggestive as her lips quirked into a sly smirk. “In the meantime, I think I’ll have a nap. Oh, Barthello?”

Derek’s brow arched at the unsubtle insinuation, his lips twitching into a smirk of disbelief. Barthello’s response was immediate, following her with the kind of obedience that bordered on desperation. The man practically radiated adoration, trailing after her like a dog chasing its master.

The Crusader standing guard at the gate, clearly relieved by Dona’s departure, turned his attention to the group. His posture straightened, and his voice took on a robotic cadence, the words clearly rehearsed. “The Mushroom Rock Road is off-limits to non-Crusader personnel until the end of the mission!” His eyes flickered over the larger party, lingering briefly on Auron, before he winced and hastily added, “We apologize for the inconvenience, but this road is closed!”

“What should we do?” Yuna asked softly, her tone calm but laced with uncertainty as her gaze shifted from one companion to another.

Tidus let out an exaggerated sigh, stretching his arms behind his head. “How long is this operation gonna take? We’ve got places to be!” His tone was light, but the frustration beneath his words was clear.

Before anyone could respond, a pair of familiar voices cut through air. “Gatta and Luzzu reporting, sir!” The group’s attention snapped toward the gate, where the two Crusaders stood at attention, saluting the gate captain.

Moving closer to the scene, Derek watched as Luzzu gestured toward the large wagon they’d hauled down the Highroad. The effort it had taken to move it was evident in the sweat on their brows and the heavy rise and fall of their shoulders. “This is the last of them,” Luzzu said, his tone steady.

The gate guard stepped forward, nodding in approval as he lifted the edge of the heavy cloth draped over the wagon. Derek leaned in slightly, his curiosity piqued. His breath caught in his throat as he caught a glimpse of what lay beneath—a large, reinforced cage containing a grotesque, writhing fiend. The creature’s misshapen body pressed against the bars, its glowing eyes burning with primal rage.

“What… is that?” Derek murmured, his voice barely audible over the sudden rush of unease that washed over him.

The others turned to look, but their expressions were a mix of confusion and unease. Yuna’s brow furrowed as she pressed a hand to her chest, while Tidus and Wakka exchanged uncertain glances.

Before anyone could ask further, Luzzu quickly pulled the cloth back over the cage, his movements deliberate and almost too quick, as if trying to shield them from the sight. He signaled the wagon through and turned sharply, forcing a smile as he approached the group with Gatta in tow.

“Hey, good to see you guys!” Luzzu said, his voice a touch too cheerful as he tried to divert their attention. Gatta, looking slightly nervous, gave a small wave as they approached Tidus and Wakka.

Derek’s gaze lingered on the wagon as it disappeared beyond the gate, his mind racing with questions he wasn’t sure he wanted answered. Whatever they were planning, it was clear the Crusaders were playing with something dangerous.

Gatta and Luzzu exchanged apologetic glances with the group, clearly aware of the frustration their orders were causing. Gatta managed a small, almost sheepish wave, his smile boyish. “Show me how to play blitz sometime!” he called out, his tone eager and lighthearted despite the tension in the air.

“Wait around,” Luzzu added, his confidence unshaken as he grinned at Tidus and Wakka. “We’ll have Sin beaten in no time!” He fist-bumped Wakka and saluted both him and Tidus before offering a respectful nod to the rest of the group. Then, without waiting for a reply, the two Crusaders marched past the gate.

Lulu exhaled a soft, resigned sigh, her arms folding neatly across her chest. “I suppose we don’t have much of a choice,” she murmured, her tone calm but laced with quiet irritation.

With the road ahead blocked, the party set up a temporary camp by the gates. Auron stood apart from the group, leaning against an ancient pillar that jutted out from the rocky enclosure above. The metal reinforcements holding the rocks together had begun to rust with age, the steel tinged with streaks of orange and brown. Derek’s gaze flicked upward, tracing the corroded lines as a faint unease settled in his chest.

The others gathered off to the grassy side of the road, clearing the pathway leading to the gate. Yuna sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap, while Kimahri stood nearby, ever watchful. Wakka and Tidus sprawled out lazily on the grass, their conversation punctuated by occasional laughter. Lulu perched gracefully on a flat stone, her eyes scanning the surroundings with practiced precision. A few Crusaders lingered nearby, engaging the group in light conversation, though their guarded expressions betrayed the weight of the mission they were preparing for.

Derek, unable to sit still, wandered away from the others and toward the line of steel cages that had been hauled in alongside the wagons. His footsteps slowed as he approached the empty enclosures, their reinforced bars a stark reminder of what they were meant to contain. He peered into one of the cages, his brow furrowing as the memory of the grotesque creature from earlier resurfaced.

Are all these cages meant to hold… things like that? The thought sent a shiver down his spine, his unease growing as he considered the scope of whatever the Crusaders were planning.

As he turned back toward the gate, his gaze landed on Auron, who was still stationed by the pillar, his presence as solid and unyielding as the ancient structure itself. Derek approached him, his steps steady but deliberate. Their eyes met briefly, and he gave Auron a pointed look—one that carried unspoken questions and lingering uncertainty.

Auron’s amber gaze met his easily, calm and unwavering, as if to say I see it too. Without a word, Derek broke his gaze and stepped closer to the gate captain, his resolve firming as he prepared to gather whatever answers he could.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you pass,” the gate captain stated firmly, his voice carrying the weight of authority. But his stern demeanor faltered when he realized Derek hadn’t approached with the intention of forcing his way through. Instead, Derek stood before him, arms crossed, a pointed look in his eyes that demanded answers.

“Ah,” the captain said, his tone softening. “You’re one of the summoner’s guardians, right? Sorry for the inconvenience.”

Derek inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, his arms still folded. “So, what’s this about? This operation.”

The gate captain blinked at him, surprised by the question. “What, they didn’t tell you?” Derek shook his head, his expression unreadable but expectant.

The captain shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable as he explained. “We’re bringing Sinspawn from all over Spira here. Sinspawn inevitably draw Sin, right? So… we’re going to lure it into a trap!”

Derek’s brows rose in disbelief, his stance stiffening as his face hardened. “What do you mean Sinspawn? Isn’t that dangerous?”

The captain sniffed, brushing off the concern with a wave of his hand. “This mission—Operation Mi’ihen—is a Crusader-Al Bhed joint mission. We Crusaders lure Sin in, and the Al Bhed strike it down.” He rolled his eyes at the skeptical look Derek shot him. “You see, the Al Bhed hate Sin as much as we do.”

“Well, I don’t think anyone loves Sin,” Derek countered dryly, his tone sharp.

Unfazed, the captain pressed on. “They managed to salvage ancient machina. They say these weapons are as powerful as the mighty aeons.”

Derek listened intently, his expression tightening as the implications sank in. He cast a glance over his shoulder, spotting Auron leaning casually against the pillar, his head turned slightly in their direction. Auron’s sharp gaze indicated he was paying closer attention than he let on. Derek turned back to the captain, his voice calm but probing.

“I’m surprised, you know machina is forbidden by Yevon,” Derek said, he punctuates the words, pretending to be a follower.

The captain hesitated, his confidence wavering for the first time. “Ah… on second thought, let’s not go there. Better for you not to know too much.” He glanced around quickly, lowering his voice. “The Crusaders involved in Operation Mi’ihen have all been excommunicated. My own family won’t even speak to me now.”

Derek felt a pang of unease at the admission, unsure whether to scold the man for his reckless choices or sympathize with his plight. The captain’s shoulders slumped, his earlier bravado slipping away.

“We have to beat Sin today,” the captain muttered, almost to himself. “Otherwise, there’s nowhere for us to go…”

Derek remained silent, his gaze fixed on the man who, despite his flaws and doubts, carried a determination that was almost desperate. It was a reminder of the weight so many bore in their fight against Sin—a weight that was crushing, unrelenting, and all too familiar.

Several footsteps approached from behind, the sound crisp against the rocky terrain. Derek’s brows lifted in curiosity as he turned, spotting Maester Seymour striding toward them with his guards in tow. His regal figure stood out sharply against the muted backdrop of the Highroad, his light blue hair swaying slightly with each step. Derek’s posture stiffened as Seymour’s gaze briefly swept over the group, his expression as composed as ever.

Seymour stopped short of the gate, his focus locking onto Yuna. Derek wandered back toward the others, his arms loosely crossed as he positioned himself near Auron.

“So we meet again, Lady Yuna,” Seymour said smoothly, his purple eyes gleaming with an almost predatory glint as they settled on the young summoner.

Yuna fidgeted under his gaze, her hands clasping tightly in front of her. “Y-yes?”

Seymour tilted his head slightly, his smile poised and practiced. “You seem troubled. Is there anything I can do?”

Derek’s gaze shifted to Yuna, noticing the way her shoulders tensed. She glanced toward the gate, hesitating. “Well…”

Seymour stepped closer, his voice a touch too warm, almost condescending. “I see.” Without another word, he moved past her and approached the gate captain, who immediately snapped to attention and saluted.

“Maester Seymour,” the captain greeted, his tone sharp with deference. “Let me show you to the command center.”

Seymour raised a hand, stopping the captain mid-step. “Hold. I have a request.”

“Yes, your grace?” The captain’s voice wavered slightly, his earlier confidence dimming under the Guado’s sharp gaze.

“I need Summoner Yuna and her guardians to be permitted passage to the command center,” Seymour stated, his tone leaving little room for argument. It was less a request and more a command wrapped in a veneer of politeness.

The captain blinked, his eyes darting toward the group behind Seymour. “But… Maester Seymour… Maester Seymour, sir,” he stammered, clearly torn between duty and fear of defying the maester.

Seymour’s polite smile never wavered, but his tone hardened subtly. “Do not worry. I will take full responsibility.”

With a reluctant nod, the captain finally relented. “Very well. They may pass.” He stepped aside, gesturing for the gate to be opened.

Seymour turned back toward the group, his smile widening into something that felt less sincere and more rehearsed. Derek’s eyes narrowed as he watched the Guado closely.

“It is done,” Seymour announced.

Yuna bowed several times in quick succession, her voice soft but earnest. “Thank you, Your Grace.” Even after Seymour and his guards moved through the gate, Yuna remained bowing, her head hung low.

“Yuna, it’s time to go,” Lulu said gently, pulling her out of her thoughts.

The summoner straightened abruptly, her cheeks faintly flushed. “Oh! Right!”

From behind, Tidus huffed, his voice low but audible enough for Derek to catch. “Who does he think he is?”

Wakka nudged him with an elbow, shaking his head. “He’s a maester. Better get used to it, ya?”

Tidus grumbled, his lips pulling into a tight frown. “Hmph.”

Auron remained silent with a deep frown etched onto his face. Derek’s gaze lingered on the retreating figure of Seymour, his instincts bristling with unease. “Something’s fishy here,” he muttered.

The remark caused the group to pause, their attention shifting toward him. Derek crossed his arms, his tone firm as he met their questioning looks.

Wakka frowned. “What do you mean?”

“A maester, here at the operation?” Derek pointed out, his voice steady but laced with suspicion. “Doesn’t that mean Yevon sanctioned this? And if they did, what does that mean for the machina they’re using?”

Wakka puffed out his chest defensively, his faith in Yevon unshaken. “I’m sure he has his reasons! Yevon always has a plan.”

Derek didn’t reply immediately, his gaze shifting to Lulu. The black mage remained quiet, her expression unreadable as their eyes met. The weight of their previous conversation about Yevon and the cracks in its teachings lingered between them. Derek held her gaze, silently questioning, until she finally looked away.

The unease settled over him like a heavy fog. Seymour’s polished demeanor, the Crusaders’ desperation, and the secrecy surrounding the operation—it all felt off, and Derek couldn’t shake the feeling that they were walking into something far more dangerous than anyone was willing to admit.

—

The road beyond the gate hugged the cliffside, with a sheer drop to the right that revealed a jagged expanse below. The pathway was alive with activity, Al Bhed and Crusaders alike darting to and fro, their movements hurried. The air was thick with tension, the kind that foreshadowed something significant—or disastrous.

Wakka, however, seemed more focused on the Al Bhed than the operation itself. His sneers and muttered remarks followed every one of them that crossed his path. The atmosphere among the group grew increasingly tense with each glare he threw their way.

Derek cast a glance at the blitzball captain, his jaw tightening. Their earlier conversation about Chappu surfaced in his mind unbidden. Wakka’s resentment felt like a festering wound, and Derek bit the inside of his cheek, the weight of the past settling heavily on his shoulders. How could anyone begin to mend something so deeply rooted? He stayed silent, his thoughts churning.

As they continued along the road toward Djose, the path grew narrower, the rocky terrain flanked by scattered vegetation and the occasional Crusader outpost. It became clear they would have to pass through the heart of the operation’s command center to proceed. While some of the others looked hesitant, Derek couldn’t hide his curiosity. If nothing else, this would be his chance to get a clearer picture of what exactly was going on.

Crusaders lining the path recognized Yuna almost immediately. Their stern faces softened as they greeted her, offering supplies for the journey ahead—potions, phoenix downs, and a few encouraging words. Yuna accepted them graciously, her calm demeanor shining even amidst the chaos.

The group encountered a handful of fiends along the way, but the battles were brief and efficient. Tidus and Wakka struck with practiced ease, Yuna providing healing where needed, while Auron’s blade dispatched threats with a single swing. Derek kept his own blade ready, his focus steady as they pushed forward.

Eventually, the road forked ahead. A Crusader stood stationed at the split, his armor slightly battered but his posture resolute. He stepped forward as the group approached, shaking his head apologetically.

“This path is restricted,” he said firmly, gesturing toward the narrower of the two roads. “It’s being used exclusively for the operation. Civilians and travelers aren’t allowed through.”

Yuna nodded in understanding. “Is there another way?”

The Crusader’s expression softened at her polite tone. “Yes, Lady Summoner. If you take the Mushroom Rock Road”—he pointed toward the wider left path—“it will lead you to the command center. From there, you can continue onward toward Djose Temple.”

With a brief thanks, the group veered left, following the slope upward. As they climbed, the sound of boots stomping and voices shouting grew louder. The slope opened into a flat plateau where a group of Crusaders had gathered, their ranks orderly and buzzing with anticipation.

Above them, perched on an elevated rock that jutted from the cliffside, stood Seymour. His presence commanded attention, his ornate robes flowing lightly in the breeze. Even at a distance, his composed posture and piercing gaze seemed to draw all eyes to him.

The Crusaders stood in perfect formation below, their faces a mix of determination and reverence. Seymour raised a hand, his voice carrying easily over the gathered soldiers.

“All hail Maester Seymour!” one of the soldiers called out, a cheer that rippled through the crowd like a wave.

Seymour’s voice followed, smooth and practiced, as though he’d delivered this speech a hundred times before. “Brave Crusaders of Spira, protectors of all Spira! Believe in the path you have chosen. Let your faith be your strength!” His purple eyes gleamed as he swept his gaze across the assembly. “I, Seymour Guado, maester of Yevon, will bear witness to your deeds today.”

The soldiers snapped into salutes, their fists striking their chests with resounding unity. “Sir!” they barked in unison before scattering, their focused movements reflecting a shared determination.

Derek watched it all unfold from a distance, his arms crossed as he studied the scene.

“A showman, through and through,” Derek muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as the maester descended from his perch, his guards flanking him once more.

Auron, standing close, made a low sound of agreement. “His words may inspire, but they hide something more.”

Derek frowned, nodding as they exchanged quiet words. He didn’t like the way this was unfolding, but they had little choice but to continue forward. For now, he resolved to keep a sharp eye on Seymour—and on whatever was brewing within the command center.

Wakka, his usual confidence shaken, stared hard at the machina cannons being mounted onto wagons by Al Bhed workers. His fists clenched at his sides, the tension radiating off him in waves. “What’s goin’ on? Why’s Maester Seymour backing the Crusaders, eh?” His voice rose slightly as he jabbed a finger toward the machinery. “They’re using the Al Bhed’s machina! They’re violating the teachings!”

The accusation hung in the air, weighted by the frustration and confusion in his tone.

Yuna, ever composed, folded her hands together and spoke softly, as if reasoning with herself as much as with Wakka. “Even going against the teachings… they’re willing to risk it for the greater good.” She paused, glancing toward the Maester still overseeing the operation. “I think Maester Seymour sees that, too.”

Her words brought a momentary quiet, and Derek turned his gaze to Wakka, who looked torn between his faith and the reality in front of him.

Wakka slumped slightly, rubbing the back of his head as though trying to soothe his rattled thoughts. Finally, he turned to Lulu, his voice almost pleading. “Lulu…?”

The black mage shifted her weight, adjusting her braids as her crimson eyes flicked briefly to Derek before settling back on Wakka. Her expression remained carefully neutral. “Hmm…” she mused, her tone betraying nothing. “I can only speculate.”

Wakka groaned loudly, smacking his forehead in frustration. “This doesn’t make any sense!”

Auron’s low grunt cut through the tension. “Ask him yourself.” His voice was steady, almost dismissive, as his gaze flicked past the group.

Derek followed Auron’s line of sight, his stomach tightening slightly as Seymour approached them, flanked by his guards. The Maester moved with the same air of calm authority, his hands hanging loosely beside him, piercing purple eyes scanning the group with quiet amusement.

“Ah, Sir Auron,” Seymour greeted, his voice smooth as silk. His tone was polite, but something about it felt calculated, like every word was chosen with care. “It is an honor. I would be most interested in hearing what you’ve been doing these past ten years.”

The guado’s gaze lingered on Auron with something between curiosity and scrutiny, but the monk’s scowl deepened in response.

“I’ve got nothing to say about it,” Auron replied curtly, his tone as sharp as his sword.

Seymour’s faint smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but he recovered quickly. “I… see.” There was a note of disappointment in his voice, though it was expertly veiled by his usual charm. “Sir Auron must be a great asset as a guardian, Lady Yuna.” He nods to her before turning his attention to the rest of the group, his gaze stopping on Derek.

The air thickened with tension as Seymour’s eyes locked onto Derek’s. The guado froze mid-motion, his unreadable expression morphing into something almost analytical, as if Derek were a puzzle demanding resolution. The rest of the group seemed to instinctively tense under the weight of the silence, shifting uneasily.

Derek, unmoving, held Seymour’s gaze with a calm that belied the brewing storm within him. His brows rose slightly, and his voice broke the uncomfortable stillness. “Yes?” he said evenly, refusing to flinch under the scrutiny.

Seymour didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied Derek for another long moment before speaking, his tone soft yet deliberate. “My apologies. The guado are… sensitive to different scents.”

The response threw Derek for a moment, his brow furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?” His arms uncrossed, his posture shifting into something subtly challenging.

The maester’s lips curved into a faint smile as he clarified, though his tone carried an almost amused edge. “Allow me to elaborate. We guado have an innate talent for distinguishing people by their scent alone. It is a useful skill, though sometimes… distracting.”

Behind Derek, Yuna tilted her head, stepping forward slightly. Her voice, tinged with confusion, broke through. “Your Grace?”

Derek, still focused on Seymour, narrowed his eyes slightly. What game was this? The maester’s words felt layered, as if he were speaking to something unsaid.

Seymour watched Derek for a moment longer, his gaze inscrutable. Then, as if deciding something internally, he shrugged and turned away from the scrutiny he had sparked, redirecting his attention to Wakka, who had been lingering nearby.

The blitzball player stepped forward hesitantly, his usual bravado dampened under Seymour’s imposing presence. “Excuse me… Maester Seymour?” He stumbled over his words, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “Why is your Lordship… presently… present here, sir?”

Lulu sighed softly, shaking her head from her spot behind the group.

Seymour’s expression softened, the faintest hint of condescension in his polite reply. “Please, speak as you normally would.”

Wakka blinked, then straightened, puffing out his chest as if to steady himself. “Uhh… Isn’t this operation against the teachings of Yevon? Aren’t you gonna stop them?”

Seymour paused, his eyes closing briefly as if considering the question deeply. When he opened them again, he spoke slowly, his tone carrying an air of both humility and resolve. “It’s true… I should.”

Wakka’s posture immediately straightened further, his arms crossing as he nodded along. “Mm! Mm!”

“However…” Seymour continued, his voice gaining a subtle intensity that commanded attention, “both the Crusaders and the Al Bhed genuinely wish for peace in Spira. Operation Mi’ihen was born from that shared wish. Although it may be sacrilege to Yevon, their intentions are pure. And I, Seymour Guado—” he placed a hand over his chest, “the person, not the maester of Yevon… As a denizen of Spira, I wish them well in their endeavor.”

Wakka frowned, his discomfort palpable as he tried to process Seymour’s reasoning. “But, using machina… That’s bad, isn’t it?”

Seymour didn’t hesitate, his reply sharp and simple. “Pretend you didn’t see them.”

A collective gasp rippled through the group. Yuna’s hand flew to her mouth, and even Kimahri shifted his stance, his tail flicking once in response. Derek’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening as he crossed his arms again, his gaze never leaving Seymour. This was exactly the kind of duplicity Derek had expected.

Wakka took an uneasy step forward, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Beg your pardon, but that’s not somethin’ a maester should say!”

Seymour’s lips curved into a small, almost playful smirk, his expression unreadable but undeniably pleased with the reaction he had elicited. “Then,” he said with an air of finality, “pretend I didn’t say it.”

Without waiting for a response, Seymour turned and began to walk further down the road, his guards falling into step behind him. His blue hair swayed gently as he disappeared into the bustling operation beyond.

Wakka stared after him, stunned into a whisper. “You’re kidding…”

Derek stood rooted, his eyes narrowed and his expression grim. “No, Wakka,” he muttered under his breath. “I don’t think he is.”

Chapter Text

I spot the soldier jogging down the rocky path toward us, his green uniform standing out starkly against the dusty terrain. It doesn’t take long to recognize him—Clasko. My frown deepens as I notice the absence of his Chocobo. He looks winded, leaning forward with his hands braced on his knees as he pants, struggling to catch his breath.

“Excuse me, Lady Summoner Yuna?” he manages between gasps.

“Yes?” Yuna folds her hands gently in front of her, tilting her head slightly at his abrupt arrival.

“The command center… Maester Seymour requests your presence there, ma’am.” He straightens, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Thank you,” Yuna replies with a polite bow of her head. She glances back at Auron, who meets her look with a simple nod of approval.

Clasko shifts awkwardly, gesturing toward a path leading further up the trail. “Take that road to the command center. It’s not far. We’re still in the middle of preparations here… Sorry.” With that, he jogs back the way he came, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

“Wonder what he wants this time?” Tidus mutters behind me, arms crossed.

“Well… he did get us through the gate,” Yuna says hesitantly, her voice unsure.

I huff, the unease in my chest tightening. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I say, my voice low enough that only those closest can hear.

Lulu perks up at my tone, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean by that?”

Without looking back, I keep my eyes locked on the path ahead, the one Clasko indicated. “He gets us through, so now he can ask for our presence? I liked it better when we weren’t on his radar.”

“You don’t think you’re being a little defensive?” Lulu asks, crossing her arms as her voice takes on a slightly chastising tone.

I shrug half-heartedly. “Maybe. I just don’t like the guy.”

Wakka pipes up, his voice tight with disapproval. “Look, I don’t like him bein’ here either, but he’s still a Maester. You should show some respect, ya?”

I glance back at him briefly, raising a brow. “Respect is earned, not handed out like candy.” My gaze shifts to Yuna, softening slightly. “You guys can do whatever you want, but I don’t trust him. And I don’t like the way he looked at me.”

Yuna hesitates, her expression thoughtful, but doesn’t respond.

As we begin walking, Tidus leans in closer to me, lowering his voice. “Yeah, what was that all about? It felt… weird.”

The team falls silent for a moment, the sound of our footsteps crunching against the rocky ground the only noise.

Then, unexpectedly, Kimahri speaks. “He knows you are not from here.”

His deep, measured voice cuts through the quiet, startling everyone, including me. I blink and turn toward the Ronso, still walking evenly. “What? How would he know that?”

Kimahri keeps his gaze fixed ahead, his stride steady and unbothered. “Guado see with more than just eyes,” he says cryptically. “To Kimahri, you also smell… different.”

I halt mid-step, staring at him. “Wait—what?”

Kimahri doesn’t so much as glance at me, continuing down the path as if his words didn’t just turn everything upside down.

“What do you mean, different? What do I smell like?” I ask, genuinely curious now.

The Ronso’s voice rumbles, steady as ever. “…Nothing.”

What?

The others pause as well, exchanging confused glances. “I smell like nothing?” I repeat, incredulous.

Kimahri stops walking, turning fully to face the group. His yellow eyes lock onto me with unnerving intensity. “You not smell like Ronso, not Guado, not human.” He pauses, his words slow and deliberate. “It is empty.”

The weight of his statement lingers in the air, thick and confusing. He seems to search for the right words to clarify, but they don’t seem to come.

“Empty?” I echo, stunned. “Kimahri… I’m not following.”

Kimahri exhales through his nose, the sound sharp yet calm. “Kimahri does not know. Kimahri knows only this: you are not of this world. You are not of Spira. Kimahri knew back in Besaid.”

The group falls silent again, his words hanging heavily in the air. I stare at him, trying to make sense of what he’s saying, but he offers no further explanation. His expression remains as stoic as ever, and without another word, he resumes walking.

The others follow, their confusion mirroring my own. As we move closer to the command center, I can’t help but glance at Yuna, wondering if she picked up on what Kimahri was implying. Her expression is thoughtful, though her lips press into a tight line.

Different.

—

Making our way through the ravine, Auron walks a step closer than before. His silent but steady presence draws my attention, and I send a quiet thanks his way, hoping he understands without words. There’s a comfort in his nearness that I didn’t realize I needed, something grounding amidst the weight of the unknown. It’s strange, really—how just having him there keeps my thoughts from spiraling too far.

Yet they spiral anyway. Back to Kimahri’s words.

The ronso’s claim has been circling my mind like an untamed fiend since he said it. “You smell like… nothing.” It wasn’t said with malice or disgust, but the sheer oddity of it gnaws at me. Kimahri has never mentioned anything before—not in the entire year I’ve been here. No subtle hints, no passing remarks. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it if he hadn’t been so direct.

But “nothing”?

It doesn’t offend me, but the strangeness of it pulls me in two directions—confusion and unease. Kimahri included human in that observation. I don’t smell human. The thought churns in my head, twisting itself into questions I can’t answer. Am I not human? Did passing through the rift change something fundamental about me? Or is it because I’m not a human from Spira?

The questions refuse to settle, and my eyes flick to Auron for a moment, his steady figure cutting a path through the ravine ahead. Would he know? Could he tell, the way Kimahri could? But if he does, he hasn’t said anything.

I press a hand to my chest briefly, feeling the faint rise and fall of my breath, the steady beat of my heart. My body feels like mine. It has always felt like mine. And yet… it’s hard to shake the thought that something has changed.

My magic manifested here, and that was strange enough. But then there’s this ability—this so-called manipulation of time that Lulu has warned me about more than once. An ability she’s seen no one else use, not even those most skilled in magics. The thought makes my frown deepen, and my hand drops to my side. Stopping time. Altering it. Rewriting it. The very concept seems like something out of a fairytale, yet I’ve done it. I’ve used it. And it always comes with a cost.

It’s never been clear what that cost is—not beyond the toll on my own health. My body pays the price every time I interfere, every time I pull the threads of time in a direction they weren’t meant to go. It leaves me weak, sometimes on the verge of collapse, but that’s a price I’ve been willing to pay.

For now.

My stomach sinks, and unease tightens its grip. What if the consequences go beyond just me? What if there’s more to this than I’ve noticed? What if I’ve been so focused on surviving, on helping Yuna and the others, on figuring out this magic, that I’ve been blind to the ripples I’ve created? The thought hangs heavy in the air, like a storm waiting to break.

I try to shake it off, focusing on the rocky path ahead. But it’s there, nagging at the edges of my mind.

What if Kimahri’s observation wasn’t just about how I smell—or don’t smell? What if it’s something deeper? Something I can’t see, but others can sense? The idea makes me feel hollow, and for the first time in a while, I wonder if I’ve been missing something important. Something critical.

What if the cost is bigger than I ever imagined?

As we round a bend, the rhythmic clink of armor and the soft clatter of chocobo talons against the rocky path signal the approach of Captain Lucil. She reins her chocobo to a smooth halt, her sharp eyes scanning over our group before her brows lift slightly in recognition.

“We’ve been expecting you,” she says, her voice carrying the crisp authority of someone accustomed to command. She gestures towards a platform not far ahead. “Please proceed to the command center. Take that platform up, and you’ll find a lift that will take you the rest of the way.”

“Thank you, Captain Lucil.” Yuna offers a polite bow, her hands folded in front of her. “Is Maester Seymour already up there?”

Lucil nods, her expression softening just slightly. “Yes, Lady Summoner. The presence of both a maester and a summoner is a great morale boost for the troops—myself included. Thank you for being here, my lady.”

Her words hang in the air, laced with a mixture of gratitude and grim anticipation. I glance at Yuna, whose smile falters just slightly before she nods her acknowledgment.

Lucil shifts in her saddle, her gaze steady as she continues. “Depending on the way things turn out, we may suffer casualties. In such an event, we would be grateful if you could perform the sending, my lady.”

A weighted silence falls between us. The words are spoken with a soldier’s practicality, but they carry a heavy truth. Yuna’s face softens into that sad, resolute expression she wears so well, the one that breaks something in me every time I see it. She nods, “of course…”

Lucil smiles faintly, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. With a quick pull on the reins, she guides her chocobo around and rides off, no doubt to oversee the preparations for the operation. Her departure leaves behind a somber quiet, save for the distant murmur of soldiers and the clinking of weapons being readied.

A voice calls out, breaking the stillness. “Oh, isn’t that Shelinda?” Wakka waves animatedly at a figure in the distance. Sure enough, the acolyte from earlier approaches, her robes trailing slightly as she hurries over.

Most of the group exchanges a respectful Yevonite bow with her. I catch Tidus attempting an awkward imitation, his movements stiff and exaggerated. Meanwhile, Auron, Kimahri, and I remain motionless.

“In the end,” Shelinda begins, her voice trembling with an earnest sincerity, “I wasn’t able to stop them, as you can see. But seeing their fierce determination, I couldn’t just sit there. So I decided that I would do everything in my power to help them.”

Wakka scratches his head, clearly conflicted. “I guess… Since Maester Seymour is here, I’ve got no reason to complain.”

Tidus leans in, his voice tinged with teasing disbelief. “What? Now that there’s a maester here, you’ve got no problem with it?”

“Agh!” Wakka throws his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t understand it, but it’s just better to have Yevon elites ‘round, ya?” He crosses his arms with a stubborn huff.

Lulu, unusually quiet, remains deep in thought, her lips pursed ever so slightly. I can’t tell if she’s biting her tongue to avoid an argument or mulling over something else entirely. Either way, her silence is enough to keep Wakka from digging himself deeper into his contradictions.

Shelinda, sensing the tension, steps forward with a placating smile. “I know it can be confusing, but I think we should trust in Yevon, even if it doesn’t make sense right now.” Her tone is gentle, almost apologetic. “I want to help, in the only way I can. Truly, I know nothing of the ways of fighting, but I do know some white magic. I’m hoping that will be of some use to them.”

Yuna, ever the beacon of warmth, takes Shelinda’s hand in hers. “Of course, Shelinda. I’m sure they will be grateful to have your help.”

Shelinda’s face lights up, and she thanks Yuna with a sweet smile that briefly dispels the somber atmosphere. Watching the exchange, I can’t help but wonder how Yuna always manages to exude this kind of lightness, even with everything weighing on her.

A crusader approaches, breaking up the moment. His armor is dusted with grit, and he nods respectfully before gesturing towards a nearby platform. “We’ve secured the command center perimeter. Up there is a mechanical lift built by the Al Bhed. Please take the platform up and proceed to the lift to get to the command center.”

Wakka’s face immediately sours. “Al Bhed and their machina…” he mutters, loud enough to be heard.

The crusader’s expression tightens, but he almost looks… sympathetic? “Relying on machines goes against the teachings,” he mumbles, as if trying to excuse it. “But the maester just used it.”

I glance over at Wakka, watching as he huffs and crosses his arms again. It’s clear he doesn’t want to budge on his beliefs, even when they’re as contradictory as the situation in front of him. Tidus glances between us, clearly holding back another teasing remark, but for once, he stays quiet.

We take the platform up and are immediately greeted by the sight of the Al Bhed lift.

Its mechanical arms creak faintly as it prepares for its next passengers. It seems solid enough, if not a little out of place against the rugged backdrop of the ravine. The faint hum of its machina parts is oddly unsettling—like a reminder that this operation, for all its pomp and ceremony, isn’t as unified as it pretends to be.

The sharp voice of Gatta cuts through the air, just behind the lift, his frustration palpable. “Why only you, sir? I want to fight, too!” His tone is pleading, verging on desperation.

Tidus jogs ahead to greet them, but his enthusiastic stride falters as he realizes he’s walked into something far from friendly banter. The air between Gatta and Luzzu is thick with tension.

“Orders are orders,” Luzzu says firmly, crossing his arms like a barrier Gatta can’t break.

“I’m not a cadet anymore, sir! Let me go with you, and I’ll prove it to them!” Gatta’s voice wavers, but his resolve does not.

Luzzu’s frown deepens, a shadow of guilt creeping into his otherwise stoic expression. “Guarding the command center is important too, you know.”

“But I came all the way from Besaid to fight Sin, sir!” Gatta’s words punch through the air, carrying the weight of crushed expectations.

“I know,” Luzzu says quietly, his voice dropping with the weight of his own decision. “But an order’s an order. To your post, Crusader.”

The words land like a hammer, and Gatta’s shoulders slump in defeat. He growls under his breath before spinning on his heel and storming off, his frustration tangible as he shoves past our group without so much as a glance.

Luzzu lets out a sigh, one that seems to deflate him entirely, before finally acknowledging us. “They let you through, huh?”

Tidus, who has been watching the interaction with wide eyes, speaks up. “Mm. Gatta deserves better…”

“He’s a kid, Tidus.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, heavy with emotion. “There’s a lot of people here prepared to…” I trail off, my gaze shifting away as Luzzu’s weary eyes meet mine. His sad, understanding smile answers the unspoken words.

“At least there’s no chance he’ll get hurt,” Wakka adds, though the statement sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself.

Wakka’s tone turns sharp, the disdain in his voice unmistakable. “Why are you guys fighting, anyway? Aren’t the almighty Al Bhed machina enough?”

Luzzu doesn’t even flinch at the jab. “They still need some time to get them ready. Our job is to keep Sin at bay until they’re done.”

Wakka mutters something under his breath before turning his back to Luzzu, his frustration evident in his stiff posture.

The pause that follows is brief but heavy. Luzzu takes a step closer to Wakka, his face unusually serious. “Wakka… I might not get another chance to say this. It’s about your brother.”

Lulu’s head snaps up, her normally composed expression cracking as panic flashes across her features. “Luzzu, no!” Her voice is sharp, almost pleading.

Her outburst startles me, as well as the rest of the group. Even Tidus, who usually has a quip ready, stands frozen.

“What?” Wakka’s voice is low, almost a growl. He looks between Lulu and Luzzu, suspicion and dread warring in his expression. Lulu averts her gaze, refusing to meet his eyes, while Luzzu seems to brace himself, his jaw tightening.

“I’m the one who convinced him… to enlist,” Luzzu admits, his voice steady but lined with guilt. The words hang in the air like a thunderclap.

Wakka’s face pales, and he stares at Luzzu as if seeing him for the first time. Slowly, the truth sinks in. “I’m sorry,” Luzzu murmurs, bowing his head.

It’s not enough. Wakka’s fist clenches at his side, trembling with anger. I see the storm brewing in his eyes and step forward instinctively, but I hesitate. Some things need to happen.

And then, Wakka snaps. He swings, landing a punch square on Luzzu’s jaw with a sickening crack. Luzzu stumbles back but doesn’t fall. He cups his cheek, glaring at Wakka, even as the fire in his eyes flickers with something resembling acceptance.

Tidus and I move in quickly, grabbing Wakka by the arms as he lunges forward again. “Wakka! That’s enough, Wakka!” Tidus shouts, his voice desperate.

I press a firm hand to the back of Wakka’s neck, trying to ground him. He struggles for a moment before the fight drains out of him, his shoulders sagging. His voice trembles with pain as he speaks. “When we used to play blitz together, Chappu would say… He’d say that—when we won the Cup, ya?—he’d propose to Lulu. And then one day… he goes off and becomes a Crusader. Just like that.”

Luzzu, still nursing his cheek, straightens and locks eyes with Wakka. “Chappu also said to me… that being with your girl is good. But keeping Sin far away from her is better.”

The words land with devastating precision, and Wakka falls silent, stunned. He turns to Lulu, his voice cracking. “Lu… you knew?”

The black mage exhales heavily, her usual poise shattered. She nods faintly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Luzzu told me… before we left.”

A bitter, humorless laugh escapes Luzzu. “She hit me too.”

The tension is broken by Lucil’s voice, calling out orders from nearby. “All Crusaders in the vanguard are to assemble on the beach!”

Luzzu takes a step back, his expression hardening. “That’s my cue.”

Wakka breaks free from our grasp, but he doesn’t approach Luzzu. Instead, he watches him with a mixture of anger and resignation. “Luzzu! Don’t die out there.”

Luzzu pauses, glancing over his shoulder with a wry smile. “So you can hit me more?”

“Lots, lots more!” Wakka calls back, his voice softer now.

Before Luzzu can leave, Yuna steps forward, blocking his path. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears as she spreads her arms wide. “Sir Luzzu, please! Please, don’t go!”

For a moment, it seems like Luzzu might waver. He looks at Yuna, his face softening. But then, he shakes his head, resolute. “I have to, Yuna.”

Auron, who has been silent throughout the exchange, finally speaks, his gravelly voice cutting through the tension. “Let him go. The man has already chosen his path… as you did when you became a summoner.”

Yuna bites her lip, her shoulders trembling, but she steps aside, allowing Luzzu to pass.

I watch Luzzu walk away, his head held high, the weight of his confession seemingly lifted. My gaze shifts to Yuna, who stares after him with a mix of sorrow and understanding.

Chosen his path… as you did? The words echo in my mind as I glance at Auron, who is already moving toward the lift, his back as straight as ever.

I follow, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air behind us.

—

The lift groans under its weight as it ascends, the group standing in silence punctuated only by the sound of shifting metal and the distant crash of waves. Wakka, however, seems unable to contain his frustration. The moment we step off the lift, his eyes fall on one of the Al Bhed cannons positioned at the cliffside. His jaw tightens, and before anyone can stop him, he marches up to it and delivers a swift kick.

“Curse these…!” His shout is followed immediately by a wince as he clutches his leg. “Ow!”

The moment is almost comical, but there’s too much tension in the air for any laughter. Tidus watches from a distance, his expression laced with concern. “He… really hates them, huh?”

Lulu, ever composed, speaks just above a whisper, though her words are heavy with something unspoken. “Chappu… He left the sword Wakka gave him in Besaid. And he fought with an Al Bhed machina weapon instead.”

The statement hangs in the air like a thundercloud. It’s quiet, almost too quiet, but Wakka’s ears pick up on it anyway. He spins toward her, his voice sharp and defensive. “That’s got nothing to do with it! I just… hate these sacrilegious contraptions!”

His words echo in the growing tension, the rest of the group silent as they process the outburst. It feels like the anger is a mask, a flimsy one, stretched over deeper wounds he doesn’t want to admit are there.

I glanced toward the cannons, their cold, mechanical designs pointed directly at the sea as if they could pierce the sky itself. My feet carry me further from the group, and I find myself standing at the cliff’s edge, staring at the waves crashing far below. The clouds above begin to grey, a dreary shroud that matches the mood all too well. Even the sky seems sad.

I don’t have to look to know Auron has joined me. His presence is distinct, steady, a grounding force that’s become as familiar as my own shadow. He says nothing at first, but I can feel his gaze.

“You’ve been quiet,” he finally says, his deep voice cutting through the wind.

I let out a dry chuckle, eyes still fixed on the horizon. “More than I usually am?” I try a joke, a tease, though my voice carries no humor. The words fall flat.

“Yes.” His answer is simple, direct. He doesn’t give me the room to deflect. “Ever since the ronso revealed those things to you.”

Of course, he noticed it had left a heavier mark. Auron always notices. I glance at him briefly, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his expression unreadable beneath his sunglasses. “Mm,” I murmured, neither confirming nor denying it.

“Does it worry you?” His voice is calm, but there’s a weight to the question, like he already knows the answer.

I hesitate, my thoughts swirling too fast to settle. “No. Yes? A little bit.” The words stumble out of me, uncertain. Whether I’m trying to convince him or myself, I’m not sure. “How was I supposed to take it? I’m… nothing? I don’t smell like anything?” I gesture vaguely toward the sea, frustration leaking into my voice. “Kimahri didn’t seem worried about it before, and now he just suddenly brings it up. Like it makes sense why Seymour—”

“Then that’s all you need to know,” Auron interrupts, his tone steady and firm, cutting through my spiraling thoughts.

I blink, caught off guard by the simplicity of his statement. “That’s it?” I ask incredulously.

Auron turns slightly toward me, his gaze steady and unyielding. “If the ronso didn’t feel like it was worth mentioning before, trust that it doesn’t matter in the way you worry about it now.”

“But…” I start, unsure how to counter his logic. It feels too simple, too dismissive of something that’s been gnawing at the edges of my mind.

He faces me fully now, his sunglasses sliding down his nose just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his amber eye. They burn with a quiet intensity that makes me feel exposed, as though he’s looking straight into the heart of my doubts. “Things will become clear in time,” he says firmly, his voice carrying the weight of certainty.

I squint up at him, crossing my arms. “You sound like you know all the secrets.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, a rare and fleeting thing. “Some,” he admits. “Not all.” The smirk softens into something gentler, almost fond. “You are an anomaly, Derek. But you are also not alone.”

I follow his gaze back to the group. Tidus is doing his best to cheer Wakka up, though the latter still wears his frustration like armor. Yuna is speaking gently to Shelinda, her words calming in a way only Yuna’s could be. Lulu remains quiet, her eyes distant, lost in thought. Kimahri, ever vigilant, stands near Yuna, though his gaze flickers briefly toward Auron and me before returning to his watch.

My voice drops to a whisper, almost too quiet to hear over the wind. “What if me being here… is worse than what it is? Something that doesn’t belong… that needs to be corrected.”

Auron’s gaze doesn’t falter. If anything, it grows sharper, more resolute. “Then you’ll figure that part out as well. It’s why you’re here, after all. To find your way home.”

The words settle over me like a blanket, heavy yet comforting. I look back at the horizon, the grey clouds shifting as faint rays of sunlight break through. The path ahead feels no less uncertain, but I’m not walking it alone.

“Grr… It won’t work anyway.” Wakka comments with finality.

Yuna firmly corrects him, “don’t say that. It might be a hopeless campaign, and it might mean defying Yevon… but the Crusaders and the Al Bhed– they’re doing their best to defeat Sin. They want to rid Spira of Sin forever. And that’s just what we want, too, isn’t it?” Her voice is small, but filled with determination.

“Isn’t it?” Yuna asks again when Wakka tries to turn away.

“Hmph! All right, all right! But I still think machina are bad news. They’re forbidden for a reason!” He says petulantly.

I watch the exchange over a small distance. “If Chappu hadn’t died… you think he’d still hate the Al Bhed the same way?” I mumble quietly.

Auron doesn’t respond immediately. He exhales softly, his shoulders shifting as he folds his arms. “Grief… twists people in different ways. Wakka mourns through anger—at the Al Bhed, at machina, at anything he can point to and blame.”

I nod slowly, watching as Wakka’s animated gestures punctuate his words. Yuna’s steady replies chip away at his walls, but only slightly. “Yeah… but maybe if Chappu were here, he wouldn’t need to hold onto that anger.”

Auron tilts his head, his sharp amber eye flicking toward me. “Maybe. Or maybe he’d find something else to cling to. People mourn the same way, no matter what they’ve lost. There could be something worse than his brother's death.”

I chew on his words for a moment, letting the weight of them settle. The silence stretches between us, but Auron doesn’t press me. He never does.

Finally, I murmur, “Does it ever get easier? Carrying grief, I mean.”

Auron shifts slightly, his hand reaching up to readjust his collar. “No,” he says simply. “But you learn to live with it. You carry it, or it carries you. That’s the choice.”

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, studying the hard lines of his profile, the scar over his right eye, the weight of his years etched into every inch of him. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who just… lets grief carry him.”

Auron’s lips twitch in what might have been a smile, but it vanishes. “I’ve had a long time to practice.”

I huff a quiet laugh, though it lacks humor. My gaze lowers to the ground, tracing the patterns of the rocks that sit on the road. “What if you didn’t have to carry it at all?” I ask softly, almost to myself.

Auron turns his head slightly, his sharp eye narrowing as he studies me. “What are you getting at?”

I shake my head with a small laugh, “nevermind. Just wishful thinking I guess.”

“Derek.” I turn to gaze at the older man. There’s a small frown on his face, he’s quiet for a moment before he continues. “Some things aren’t meant to be undone. The past shapes us for a reason. If you try to unravel it, you risk unraveling yourself.”

The wind carries a sharp chill as Lucil’s voice cuts across the air, drawing our attention. “Lady Summoner!” Her tone is urgent and my gaze snaps toward her. Any lingering thoughts from my conversation with Auron evaporate as I register the look on her face. The red warrior looks like he wants to say something more, but he sets it aside, his posture shifting subtly as Lucil jogs toward us.

“There you are! The command center is that way. Maester Kinoc is also there.” She gestures toward a path lined with cloth banners and wooden pikes. The flags bearing Yevon’s sigil flap briskly in the wind, almost mocking the tension saturating the air.

“Maester Kinoc, too?” Yuna’s soft inquiry betrays her surprise.

Lucil nods briskly. “Yes. Please hurry, my Lady.” She bows low before turning sharply on her heel, heading off in the opposite direction.

The group exchanges looks before following the path toward the command center. The closer we get, the more the air thickens with anticipation. Soldiers scurry past, barking orders or carrying supplies. I can’t help but wonder why two maesters are needed here. It feels… excessive.

When we reach the entrance, Gatta stands stiffly, his face a portrait of frustration. His gaze doesn’t quite meet ours, instead fixed on the ground as he mutters flatly, “The operation will begin shortly. Please check all your equipment.”

Wakka, despite his anger earlier, steps forward, his brows furrowed in concern. “Um, you all right?”

Gatta’s head snaps up, his expression twisting into something closer to fury. “Argh! Of course not! I came here to fight Sin! But they stick me here!” His voice cracks slightly as he stomps, fists clenched at his sides.

Auron steps forward, his deep voice cutting through the young man’s frustration like a blade. “If you want to prove yourself…” Gatta’s posture straightens instinctively, as if pulled taut by the warrior’s presence. “First, you must complete the tasks you are given.”

The words don’t have the effect Gatta wants. His shoulders sag, and his anger seems to deflate, leaving behind a quiet bitterness. Tidus, standing nearby, crosses his arms and frowns, a conflicted look playing across his face. I can’t help but notice the similarities between the two—both stubborn, both desperate to prove their worth.

The group begins to move past, but Tidus lingers, his gaze fixed on Gatta. I hesitate, watching as the blonde places a hand on the young Crusader’s shoulder, speaking to him in low tones. Whatever he says seems to help, as Gatta’s stance softens slightly, and he nods. I decide to leave them to it, following the others into the command center.

The area is bustling with activity. Soldiers and monks rush to and fro, their faces a mix of determination and unease. At the center of it all stands a stubby, middle-aged man in a pale yellow robe adorned with Yevon’s sigil. His round cheeks and soft features are framed by a skullcap and a golden diadem.

That must be Maester Kinoc.

Auron stiffens slightly as the maester approaches, his jovial demeanor at odds with the tension in the air. Without warning, Kinoc throws his arms around the monk in an embrace that looks painfully awkward from Auron’s side.

“I’d heard from Seymour, but I didn’t know if we’d actually meet. Good to see you, Auron! Ten years, is it?” Kinoc’s smile is warm, almost disarming, but Auron remains a stone, his arm hanging limply at his side.

Lulu leans toward me, her voice barely a whisper. “That’s Wen Kinoc, one of the Four Maesters of Yevon. He leads the warrior monks and commands the Crusaders.”

“Ah,” I murmur, glancing back at the embrace. “So, this operation really is sanctioned by Yevon.”

Gatta bursts into the command center, his footsteps hurried but no longer weighed down by the frustration that clung to him earlier. Tidus follows at a slower pace, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he rejoins the group. His relaxed demeanor contrasts sharply with Gatta’s renewed sense of purpose.

The young Crusader stops in front of Maester Kinoc, saluting sharply, his voice firm and resolute. “All troops ready to move at your command, sir!”

Kinoc releases Auron, and ever casual, barely lifts a hand in return, his tone almost dismissive. “Good. Dismissed.”

Gatta snaps his heels together, nodding curtly before sprinting back out of the command center. This time, though, there’s something different about him—a small, determined smile tugging at his lips, one that wasn’t there before. It’s subtle, but it doesn’t go unnoticed.

My gaze shifts to Tidus, who lingers near the edge of the group. He notices my look and shrugs with an easy grin, as if to say, Don’t worry about it.

What did he say to Gatta? Whatever it was, it seems to have worked.

I glance toward the door where Gatta disappeared, a small frown forming as I turn the thought over in my head. Tidus, meanwhile, acts like he’s done nothing remarkable, his smirk still firmly in place.

Auron seems more than ready to escape the interaction when Kinoc returns his attention to the monk. The maester’s gaze sharpens, his smile thinning. “Tell me, Auron. Where have you been these last ten years?”

“We don’t have time for this now, do we?” Auron deflects with practiced ease, his voice low and steady.

Kinoc smirks, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “This plan won’t work, you know that. But we’ll just let them dream a little longer.”

Auron’s jaw tightens, a subtle but telling reaction. The group collectively tenses, the maester’s words striking a discordant note. “What?” Tidus blurts out, his voice louder than it should be.

“Lord Kinoc,” Seymour’s voice carries from behind us, calm but edged with warning. The tall maester approaches, his expression carefully neutral.

Kinoc chuckles, brushing off the reprimand. “Oh, yes. Proceed.” He waves a hand dismissively and turns away.

Auron mutters under his breath, his tone laced with disdain. “That Kinoc, a maester?”

“I heard that, Auron,” Kinoc calls back without missing a beat, a smirk playing on his lips. “A lot has happened these last ten years. What were you doing, and where?”

“Fulfilling a promise I made to a friend. I still am.”

Kinoc studies him for a moment before his tone turns probing. “Just tell me one thing: Have you seen Zanarkand?”

Auron grunts, offering no answer as he strides away. The tension lingers in the air, heavy and oppressive.

Yuna steps closer to the group, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I kinda… think we don’t belong here.”

Her words resonate more than I’d like to admit. As Kinoc’s laughter fades into the background, we move toward the edges of the command center. Somewhere, a war brews just beyond the horizon.

–

“With them here, it’s like Yevon authorizes this whole operation!” Wakka exclaims, his voice barely restrained. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, and he forcibly looks away, as though staring at the distant horizon will somehow validate his words.

I close my eyes and shake my head, the frustration bubbling just below the surface. “This is getting really old, Wakka.”

The blitzball captain stiffens, his jaw tightening as he turns to glare at me. Words seem to form on his lips, but he doesn’t speak. Not yet.

I hold his gaze, unwilling to back down. Yuna steps forward, her hand halfway raised in a gesture to stop us, but it’s Lulu who reaches out and gently pulls her back. The black mage’s expression is stoic, her sharp eyes darting between Wakka and me, silently allowing the exchange to unfold.

Taking her nonverbal cue, I press on, my voice low, barely above a whisper, careful to stay out of earshot of the Crusaders and Yevon elites nearby. “They do authorize this. Didn’t you hear the fat one? Let them dream a little longer, he said. They know they’re throwing lives away. For what? All in the name of Yevon? And that came from a maester.”

Wakka’s brows furrow, and for a brief moment, guilt flickers across his face. But I’m not finished.

“That’s fine, though, right?” I challenge, my tone sharper now, cutting through the quiet tension like a blade. “It’s just Al Bhed and Crusaders—both disregarded and shamed by Yevon. Letting this operation fail, letting all these people die for the world to see, only strengthens the teachings. That’s what you worship, Wakka.”

Wakka’s knuckles whiten as his fists clench, his gaze hard and unrelenting. Tidus approaches cautiously, raising his hands as if to mediate, but I don’t acknowledge him. Not yet. My focus is on Wakka, and the unspoken weight of my words hangs heavily between us.

“You wouldn’t understand…” Wakka finally bites out, his voice rough, almost trembling with barely restrained anger. “You’re just saying all that ‘cause—”

“Because I’m not from here? Because I’m not a Yevonite?” I interrupt, my tone dropping to something colder, steadier. “No, Wakka. I’m saying it because it’s the truth. And deep down, you know it too.”

“That’s not what I meant!” he snaps, his voice rising just enough to draw a few curious glances from the Crusaders standing at a distance. He lowers it quickly, almost ashamed. “You don’t know what it’s like… growin’ up hearin’ all about the teachings, havin’ them guide you. You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone because they didn’t follow the way.”

I pause, letting his words sink in. The pain in his voice is unmistakable, raw and unfiltered. For all his bluster, Wakka is grieving, still holding onto the anger and bitterness that Chappu’s death left behind. The impossible request he asked me back on the highroad came flooding back.

“And if Chappu were still here, would you still feel the same?” I ask quietly, my tone softer now, but no less serious. “Would you still cling to the teachings, or would you question them like he did?”

Wakka’s face contorts with a mix of emotions, no doubt recalling what he asked of me before—anger, sorrow, and something I can’t quite place. He opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. His eyes dart to Yuna, then Lulu, as though searching for some kind of validation, but neither of them speaks.

“You don’t have to answer that now,” I continue, stepping back slightly to give him space. “But one day, you’re going to have to face it. All of it. The teachings, Chappu, this… blind faith. It’s all connected, Wakka. And it’s not going to go away.”

The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife. Wakka looks down, his jaw tight as he wrestles with the weight of my words. Tidus shifts uncomfortably, glancing between us but saying nothing. Even Lulu, ever composed, watches Wakka with a rare trace of sympathy.

Finally, Wakka mutters, “We… we should get ready for the fight.” His voice is quieter now, lacking the conviction from earlier. Without another word, he turns and walks a few steps ahead, putting distance between himself and the group.

I let out a slow breath, the adrenaline fading as the weight of the exchange settles over me. Auron, standing off to the side, observes silently, his expression unreadable. For once, he says nothing, leaving the moment to speak for itself.

Yuna steps closer, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. “You didn’t have to push him so hard,” she says softly, her voice tinged with concern.

I glance at her, my expression softening. “Yes I did, Yuna. He can keep his beliefs, his faith. But to watch him ignore the contradictions over and over again.. He needed to hear it. And some day, he'll also find out about you.”

She nods slowly, though the worry doesn’t fully leave her face. Lulu finally steps forward, her gaze sharp but not unkind. “You were harsh, but perhaps it’s time someone said it. Wakka clings to his faith because it’s all he knows. Change, bending to see another perspective, none of that comes easy for people like him.”

I nod in agreement before glancing at Auron again. The monk’s one good eye meets mine, and for a moment, I think I see approval there, though it’s fleeting. He turns without a word, gesturing for the group to follow as the distant sound of marching Crusaders signals that the operation is about to begin.

A pompous base captain steps forward, his voice sharp and commanding, cutting through the tension in the air. “It is time at last. We must inform the Al Bhed outside to begin the operation immediately. The fiends may break through at any moment. This place is not safe. Make sure you’re prepared to defend yourselves.”

The weight of his words settles heavily over the group, the tension palpable as we ready ourselves. I can’t help but glance at Wakka—he avoids my gaze, his earlier anger still simmering—but now isn’t the time for personal grievances.

Maester Kinoc strides up to the raised platform overlooking the battlefield. With a single motion, he raises an arm, signaling the commencement of the operation. Yuna approaches the base captain, her voice calm but firm.

“Will Sin come?”

The captain answers dutifully, though his tone betrays a flicker of doubt. “Sin always returns for its spawn. To make sure, we’re going to encourage them to call out to it.”

Auron grunts from beside me, his voice like gravel. “You won’t have to. It’ll come.”

I remove the gunblade from its holster, letting its weight ground me as I flip it into its bladed form. Around me, the others follow suit, drawing their weapons in preparation. The air crackles with tension as the cage holding the Sinspawn begins to glow ominously. The Crusaders induce a shock to their prisoners, their desperation apparent. The Sinspawn screeches, a sound that grates against my ear drums. It thrashes violently against its restraints, and I take a step forward instinctively.

“It’s not going to hold!” I shout over the rising noise.

The Crusaders try to argue, but their words are drowned out by the deafening crack of steel giving way. The cage shatters as the beast bursts free, landing heavily on the edge of the cliff. The nearby Crusaders scatter like leaves in the wind, their resolve crumbling as they flee the grotesque monstrosity.

I tilt my head in disgust, taking in the Sinspawn’s malformed body. A grotesque fusion of scorpion and abomination, its limbs are mismatched—two pincer-like arms metallic and jagged. Two heads writhe grotesquely, one at the bottom and another on its tail, the latter screeching incessantly.

It fused.

The group immediately falls into formation. Tidus is the first to rush in, moving quickly to strike at the head within reach. The Sinspawn’s pincers flash, shielding its vulnerable spots, and it thrashes violently, sending the boy tumbling back.

Tidus recovers with a grimace, spitting through gritted teeth, “Those arms are in the way!”

“So the arms are for defense,” Auron observes, his tone calm but edged with determination. Without hesitation, he charges forward, cleaving into the left arm. The Sinspawn retaliates, its remaining pincer swinging wide.

I leap into action, flipping my weapon into its gun form and firing a volley of shots, each bolt laced with ice. They strike the hinges of the attacking arm, frost spreading across its joints. The tail-head screeches, retaliating with a burst of flame that sears the air around me. Pain flashes across my skin, but Yuna’s magic follows quickly, soothing the burn before it can take hold.

Kimahri surges forward, his lance striking the frozen arm, shattering pieces off, into jagged shards of flesh and ice.

“Wakka!” Lulu calls out sharply. “The tail!”

The blitzball captain launches his weapon, electricity coursing along its surface, directly at the writhing tail-head. Lulu follows up seamlessly, the air around her glowing with a faint light as a torrent of water collides with the same target. The elements converge, rippling across the Sinspawn’s body in a burst of energy.

Auron and I weave into the fray. The monk parries and absorbs heavy blows, his precision unmatched as he creates openings. I dart in and out, alternating between slashes and magic-laced shots, aiming for weak points on its limbs. Meanwhile, Tidus and Kimahri focus on the opposite arm, working in perfect rhythm to overwhelm the Sinspawn’s defenses.

As the arms peel off, falling to a limp and fading away, Yuna steps forward, summoning Ifrit. The ground cracks open as the blazing aeon erupts into the battlefield, flames licking along its fur. Without hesitation, Ifrit launches meteors of fire at the beast, forcing the rest of us to retreat to a safer distance.

The Sinspawn recoils, letting out an otherworldly cry as it retaliates. A sphere of dark energy condenses at its core, expanding rapidly.

“Get back!” Lulu shouts, but it’s too late.

The energy explodes outward. The air is sucked from my lungs as the spell takes hold, my strength draining while Ifrit is banished from the area, he fades into the air with a cloud of pyreflies.

“Be careful!” Lulu warns, breathing heavily. “That was a Demi!”

“What the hell is a Demi?!” Tidus yells, scrambling to his feet.

“It’s a spell that reduces your energy in parts! Keep moving and don’t let it hit you again!” I snap, dodging another spell.

Yuna moves swiftly, her magic keeping us on our feet as the Sinspawn prepares another attack.

Auron’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding. “We have to end this. Quickly.” The monk charges, arm outstretched and glowing a faint crimson light before dashing forward.

Before I can think, the Sinspawn’s arms begin to regenerate rapidly, the grotesque limbs twisting back into place and a sharp edge swings to catch the monk off guard. Time slows, faster than it can hit him, faster than my mind can catch up, I unconsciously pull at the threads.

The world dulls, the battlefield freezing mid-motion, and the pain returns.

Army of One

The space around me distorts as I move, my body a blur of speed and precision beyond my normal capabilities. My focus is honed, the world closes in and adrenaline floods my veins with my initial dash. My blade sings in a bladed flurry as it cleaves into the arm nearest Auron, sparks rippling along the edge in three swipes. I flip backward, twisting midair to fire three precise shots into the opposite arm, laced with magic as they freeze in time waiting to detonate. The world crawls as I move too fast for it to keep up, each strike flowing into the next.

A kick lands against the beast’s body, propelling me upward as I unleash bolts of magic with a snap, each aimed at separate points on the Sinspawn. Lightning crackles, ice splinters, and fire erupts in perfect succession, stilling before they make contact.

As I land, time snaps back into place.

The Sinspawn shudders violently as the accumulated damage manifests all at once. Arms sever. Magic explodes. The beast lets out a final, guttural scream before collapsing in a twitching heap at the edge of the cliff.

I stagger, my efforts leaving me breathless and weak as I crumple to the ground. Auron’s hand grips my shoulder firmly, steadying me as I lean into his unyielding presence. His scowl, etched with worry, tells me all I need to know—he’s seen this before, seen me push too far.

Our attention snaps to the rising sounds of the battlefield below. Just beyond the crumpled remains of the Sinspawn, the view stretches out towards the sea. A massive, dark shadow shifts beneath the waves, growing closer with each passing second. Tendrils as black as night emerge, writhing and twisting, before Sin itself rises from the depths.

The sheer scale of it steals the air from my lungs. The monstrosity looms like a nightmare made flesh, towering above the beach where Crusaders have gathered in formation. Their battle cries resound, a desperate roar of defiance as they aim their cannons at the abomination. From the cliffs, we watch helplessly as they fire round after round. The heavy blasts slam into Sin’s grotesque form, tearing into the tendrils wrapped along its body—only for more Sinspawn to spill forth like a plague, dropping into the waters and swarming towards the shoreline.

Auron shifts his weight to keep me steady, his gaze locked on the scene below. “I hope they’re ready…” he mutters, though his tone betrays his doubt. I can feel the tension in him, the barely restrained urge to charge down there and fight, even knowing it’s hopeless.

My stomach churns as I watch the black tendrils covering Sin begin to peel away, revealing it to be a barrier. It’s like a living shield, pulsing with unnatural energy. The air grows heavy, thick with the weight of impending doom, as a field of bright purple light ignites around the monstrosity.

“Wait, what’s it doing?” I whisper, though my voice feels drowned in the mounting chaos.

The first round cannon fires make contact with the barrier, only for all to dissolve into nothing, as though swallowed whole by its radiant glow. My heart drops. The Crusaders hesitate, their defiance faltering as they realize their most powerful weapons are useless.

Then the barrier pulses.

“Look out!” Auron roars, his voice cutting through the rising panic like a blade.

Before I can react, he grabs my arm and pulls me with him, diving for cover. The world erupts in chaos. The barrier bulges outward, its energy condensing into a single, blinding point before detonating in a massive wave of destruction.

The blast is cataclysmic. A deafening roar tears through the air as the wave engulfs the beach. Everything it touches—sand, stone, men, and metal—is obliterated in an instant. The shockwave surges upwards, debris scattering in every direction like shards of glass.

I barely register the cliff beneath us crumbling, the ground splitting apart with a groaning crack. Auron’s hand slips from my shoulder as the world shifts violently. My feet lose their purchase, and in an instant, I’m sliding, tumbling, falling.

“Derek!” Auron shouts, his voice cutting through the chaos.

I twist mid-air, reaching out instinctively, my fingers grasping for something—anything. Auron lunges after me, his arm outstretched, but the distance between us grows impossibly vast. Our fingers miss by mere inches. The world spins, space itself twisting in a disorienting spiral as I plummet.

The air is stolen from my lungs, the sheer force of the fall compressing my chest. The edges of my vision blur and warp. The very fabric of reality feels… wrong. Space around me begins to distort, as though time itself is unraveling. I’m caught in a torrent of shifting currents, and for a moment, I’m not sure if I’m falling through air or something far more intangible. My body feels weightless yet heavy all at once, every sense dulled save for the racing beat of my own heart.

I can’t breathe.

The last thing I see before the world goes dark is Auron’s face, a distance away, above me, his expression a mixture of desperation and rage, his hand reaching… always reaching. Then everything fades into a swirling void.

–

The sound of waves crashing against the shore pulls me back to consciousness. I struggle to my knees, the sands of the beach shifting beneath me as I gasp for air, my body wracked with the aftermath of Sin’s devastating strike. Fog swirls thickly around me, shrouding the battlefield in an eerie silence. Everything feels off—different. My heart pounds as I take in my surroundings. The air is heavy, oppressive. This isn’t the same beach.

Staggering forward, I scan the sands. Further back, slumped against the jagged cliffside, I see what looks like Wakka—disheveled and wounded. Small relief floods my chest, and I stumble toward him. But as I get closer, my blood runs cold. It’s not Wakka. His hair is shorter, his face younger.

It’s Chappu.

His leg lies at an unnatural angle, blood pooling from a deep wound in his stomach, staining the sands. His breaths are shallow and labored, his face pale with pain. I freeze in shock. Chappu shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t even be alive. My mind races as realization crashes over me—this isn’t the present. This is two years ago, and somehow, I’ve been thrown into the past.

Chappu’s gaze flickers up to me, delirium clouding his eyes. “Run,” he croaks, his voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.

I turn, dread sinking in as I spot Sin’s monstrous body cutting through the water, drawing ever closer to the shore. We only have moments. I shouldn’t be here—this isn’t how it was supposed to happen.

But I can’t leave. Not yet. Dropping to my knees beside Chappu, I place my hands over his wound, magic already pooling in my palms. A faint glow spreads from my fingertips as I pour my energy into healing him. The bleeding slows, but the strain makes my vision blur at the edges. Chappu groans, his grip weakly clutching at my arm. “My girl… I have to…” he whispers, his voice trembling with desperate hope.

My throat tightens. “She’s… she’s mourning you. Wakka too. They still miss you.” My voice cracks, the weight of knowing what’s to come crushing me. His eyes widened, stunned. “How do you-..?”

I swallow hard, my mind racing as Sin’s shadow looms closer. “It’s complicated,” I say quickly, my voice tight with urgency. “I’m from the future. Two years from now—where you’re… gone.” I hesitate, watching confusion flicker in his pain-filled eyes. “Lulu and Wakka, they’ve been carrying the weight of losing you ever since. They love you, Chappu. They still do.” My voice wavers, the truth threatening to choke me. He stares at me, stunned, his lips parting as if to ask more—but the faint tremor in the ground and the ominous hum of Sin’s approach cut our time even shorter. “Please,” I pleaded, gripping his shoulder. “Just trust me.”

His lips curve into a faint, bittersweet smile. His hand trembles as he reaches for a necklace hanging around his neck. “This… have you seen it before?”

I shake my head, unable to find the words.

“Must’ve been lost,” he murmurs. He rips it off and presses the necklace into my palm, his grip surprisingly firm despite his fading strength. “Take it… to Lulu. Promise me.”

“No,” I say, my voice rising with desperation. “I’m taking you with me. You don’t have to die here.”

Chappu’s head shakes faintly, a shadow of resolve crossing his face. “Magic… always has consequences. Lulu… she told me that once. This is how it’s supposed to be.”

“No!” My voice rises as panic grips me. The space around us distorts, the edges of the world shimmering and twisting, slowly enveloping me. “I can save you! Just come with me!”

I don’t notice the blood or at least I don't realize it's my own. My body trembles violently, every movement faltering under the strain. His gaze sharpens despite the pain, his bloodied hand shooting up to halt me.

“Stop,” Chappu rasps, his voice hoarse but firm. His expression twists with anguish. “I won’t let you kill yourself.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, halting me in place. It’s only then that I notice his horrified stare, his trembling hand gesturing toward my face. The warmth dripping down my cheeks, the metallic tang on my tongue—it all comes rushing in, and I freeze, realizing the true cost of what I’m trying to do.

Chappu reaches out with trembling hands, shoving me back, into the distorted space behind me. “Take care of them,” he whispers, his words barely audible as the world collapses.

Everything blurs, and my vision snaps to black.

The sound of waves crashing against the shore drags me back to consciousness, the cold grit of sand biting against my skin. Every breath burns, my chest heaving with effort as blood trickles in warm rivulets from my eyes, nose, and ears, painting my vision in streaks of crimson. The world blurs, light and shadow twisting into a surreal haze, the metallic taste of iron thick on my tongue. I cough, hard and ragged, splattering the sand with red. My body feels shattered, every movement a battle against the invisible weight pressing down on me.

The fog is gone, leaving the beach unnervingly silent. I force my fingers to tighten around the necklace, its edges cutting into my palm, the only proof of what just happened. The pendant trembles in my grasp, slick with sweat and blood, threatening to slip through my hands. It’s real. It has to be. My chest seizes with the memory—Chappu’s bloodied form, his smile filled with acceptance, his voice rasping with a plea I couldn’t refuse.

“Promise me.”

I try to rise, but my legs crumble beneath me, the toll of crossing time leaving me too broken to fight. Darkness creeps in, pulling me under, but even as my body gives way, my grip on the necklace remains unyielding.

Chapter Text

The Command Center

The air was thick with smoke, the acrid stench of burning metal and charred earth choking the cliffside. The ground where the Sinspawn had landed was a mess of jagged debris and ash, the aftermath of Sin’s devastating presence leaving the area almost unrecognizable. Yuna groaned softly as she pushed herself upright, her body trembling with the effort. The world spun briefly before steadying.

Auron stood at the very edge of the cliff, unmoving. His broad shoulders were taut, his hand hanging limply at his side. His head was bowed slightly, his gaze fixed downward, where the cliff had crumbled beneath Derek’s feet just moments ago.

Yuna blinked, her heart sinking. “Sir Auron…” Her voice was hoarse, barely audible over the ringing in her ears, but he didn’t flinch. Derek was just there, Auron was holding onto him. It didn’t take much to put the pieces together.

She tried again, louder this time. “Sir Auron!”

Still, no response. He stood like a statue, his usual air of stoic strength now unsettlingly still. Something about the way he stood—the rigidity of his posture, the tension radiating from his form.

“Sir Auron!” Forcing herself to her feet, Yuna stumbled forward, her hand reaching out to him. She brushed against his arm, and the contact broke whatever trance had held him.

Slowly, he turned to face her, and for the first time, Yuna saw it—a faint crack in the armor he always wore. His visible eye, usually calm and calculating, now carried something else: a shadow of helplessness, perhaps even grief. It was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual stoic mask, but the glimpse lingered, unsettling her.

“Yuna,” he said finally, his voice gruff and quiet, as if the effort to speak was almost too much. “Are you hurt?”

Yuna shook her head, though she wasn’t sure if her words or actions were entirely true. “I… I’m fine. But Sir Auron, the others—”

Before she could finish, a guttural roar tore through the haze, snapping their attention toward the chaos just behind them. The Sinspawn had recovered and loomed in the clearing, its grotesque form illuminated by the eerie glow of lingering magic. Its tail writhed and snapped as it lashed out, its body showing no signs of weakening despite the earlier assault.

Maester Seymour stood at the forefront, alone, his staff raised high as he unleashed wave after wave of devastating magic. Ice and lightning arced through the air, striking true, yet the Sinspawn endured, each blow only driving it into a deeper frenzy.

Seymour’s gaze flickered toward them briefly, his calm demeanor unshaken even as the monster pressed closer. “Lady Yuna,” he called, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade, “stand back.”

Yuna faltered, torn between the urgency in his voice and the silent storm brewing in Auron. Turning back to him, she hesitated, unsure what to say. “Sir Auron… I need your help.”

Auron remained silent. His grip tightened around his blade, his knuckles pale beneath his gloves. The wind shifted, carrying the echoes of the battle below, and for a fleeting moment, Yuna feared he might not move at all.

But then he exhaled, a deep, steadying breath, and stepped forward. “We’ll find them,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. His gaze lingered on the broken edge of the cliff one last time before snapping back to the battlefield. “But first, we finish this.”

Relief flooded Yuna as she nodded, clutching her staff tightly. Together, they moved toward the chaos, the Sinspawn’s roars vibrating through the smoke-filled sky. Seymour glanced at them as they approached, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Ah, Sir Auron.”

The monster bellowed again, its grotesque tendrils flaring as it prepared another assault. Auron stepped in front of Yuna, his blade gleaming in the dim light.

“Stay close,” he commanded, his voice steady and resolute.

Yuna tightened her grip on her staff, a surge of determination washing over her. The others may have been scattered, but this fight wasn’t over—not yet.

The Cliffside

The world spun violently as Wakka hit the ground hard, his body rolling to a stop on the coarse rocks. His breath came in gasps as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, groaning. His head throbbed, and his arms were scraped raw, the sting sharp as he tried to focus. A heavy wave of nausea washed over him as the deafening roar of Sin echoed in his ears, accompanied by the distant screams of the Crusaders and the crash of waves against the shore.

“Lu?” Wakka croaked, his voice hoarse. He coughed, spitting out a mouthful of dirt as he looked around.

“Over here.” Her calm but strained voice came from a few paces away. Wakka twisted toward the sound and found Lulu sitting upright, brushing dirt and debris from her dress. A shallow cut trailed along her cheek, and she was favoring her left arm slightly, but otherwise, she looked unharmed.

“Yevon be praised,” Wakka muttered, stumbling to his feet. He staggered over to her, his legs unsteady, and offered a hand. “You alright?”

Lulu waved him off, standing gracefully despite her injuries. “I’ve been through worse.” Her sharp eyes swept over the terrain, calculating and methodical as always. The beach stretched out below them, its serene expanse now littered with debris and the bodies of Crusaders. Further ahead, the distant hum of Sin’s energy pulsated in the air, the sheer presence of the creature weighing heavily on the atmosphere.

“Where’s Yuna? And the others?” Wakka asked, scanning the area with a growing sense of dread. “I don’t see ‘em.”

Lulu’s lips pressed into a thin line. “The blast scattered us. We were lucky to land close to each other, but the others… they could be anywhere.” Her voice remained steady, but Wakka caught the faint flicker of worry in her eyes.

“Damn it.” Wakka clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. “This whole operation’s a mess! I told ‘em, didn’t I? Told ‘em it was a bad idea, but did they listen? No!” He kicked a nearby piece of debris, sending it clattering across the rocks. “Now Yuna’s out there somewhere, and—”

“Wakka.” Lulu’s voice cut through his rant like a blade. She stepped closer, her gaze locking onto his. “Panicking won’t help her. Or us.”

He froze, his shoulders slumping as the weight of her words sank in. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. Sorry, Lu. It’s just—she’s out there, and so are those damn Sinspawn.”

“We’ll find her,” Lulu said firmly. “But we need to stay focused.” She turned toward the distant sounds of battle, her sharp gaze narrowing. “If the Sinspawn are still active, then Yuna and the others are likely fighting them. We head toward the noise.”

Wakka hesitated, glancing back at the cliff where they had last seen their group. His gut twisted with unease, but Lulu’s calm determination was grounding. “Alright,” he said finally, gripping his blitzball tightly. “Let’s move.”

The two of them began making their way along the broken cliffside, the oppressive heat and chaos pressing down on them with every step. Wakka kept his weapon ready, his gaze darting between the shadows cast by the ruins and the swirling fog creeping in from the water. The air was thick with tension, every sound amplified—the crackle of distant magic, the shrill cries of Sinspawn, and the faint echo of waves crashing against the shore.

“Lu,” Wakka said after a long stretch of silence, his voice quieter now. “You think… you think Derek’s alright? I mean, I saw him go over the cliff, but…”

Lulu didn’t answer right away. Her pace didn’t falter, but her expression tightened slightly. “He did…? Sir Auron was with him,” she said finally. “If anyone could protect him, it’s Sir Auron.”

“Yeah, but…” Wakka trailed off, swallowing hard. The image of Derek falling, swallowed by the chaos of the blast, was burned into his mind. He shook his head, trying to push it away. “We gotta find ‘em. All of ‘em.”

Lulu nodded, her fingers brushing her doll as she kept her gaze forward. “We will.”

The Beach

A groan escaped Tidus as he blinked against the dull grey clouds, his body aching in ways he didn’t think possible. The ground beneath him shifted—cold and gritty, clinging to his damp skin. Sand. His head throbbed, and the fragmented memories of the last moments on the cliff came rushing back. The blast. The screams. The fall.

Sin. His old man.

Tidus forced himself upright, his muscles screaming in protest as his hands sank into the sand for support. He coughed, the salty air burning his lungs as he scanned his surroundings. His heart raced when he spotted Kimahri slumped against a jagged rock a few feet away. The Ronso’s lance remained gripped tightly in his massive hand, his form hunched but resilient even in unconsciousness.

“Kimahri?” Tidus croaked, his voice cracking. He scrambled toward the Ronso, his knees digging into the sand. “Hey, big guy. You okay?” He gave Kimahri’s shoulder a firm shake, panic clawing at his chest when the Ronso didn’t stir at first. Then, with a low groan, Kimahri’s eyes fluttered open.

“Kimahri… alive,” the Ronso rumbled, his voice gravelly but steady. He pushed himself upright with a grunt, his sharp eyes immediately scanning the beach. His nostrils flared as his expression darkened. “Not all lucky.”

Tidus followed Kimahri’s gaze, his stomach twisting as he took in the horrifying scene. The beach was littered with Crusaders’ bodies, their weapons scattered uselessly in the sand. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, mixing with the salty sea breeze. Tidus quickly looked away, bile rising in his throat.

“My-... Sin did this,” Tidus muttered, his fists clenching in the sand. The sheer destruction was overwhelming, a stark reminder of Sin’s monstrous power. “We need to find the others.”

Kimahri nodded, already rising to his feet. Tidus staggered up beside him, brushing the clinging sand from his clothes as they began to move. The beach stretched endlessly before them, every inch of it marked by the aftermath of the battle.

The faint hum of machinery caught Tidus’s attention, and he squinted toward the horizon. A massive Al Bhed machina stood tall on a far cliffside, its imposing frame towering over the wreckage. Crusaders and Al Bhed worked frantically around it, their shouts barely audible over the crashing waves.

“What’s that?” Tidus asked, pointing toward the machine. Kimahri didn’t respond, his sharp eyes fixed on the activity ahead.

Before Tidus could press further, the air crackled with energy. The machina came to life, its core glowing with an intense light. The ground beneath their feet trembled as its power surged, and a blinding beam of energy erupted from the machina. The blast streaked through the air, striking Sin’s protective barrier with a deafening crack.

For a fleeting moment, hope flared in Tidus’s chest. The barrier rippled and distorted under the strain, cracks forming at its edges. “They’re actually doing it…”

But the barrier held. The beam faltered as the machina groaned under the strain. Sin turned and retaliated, its barrier resisted the beam, slowly spreading outwards before bulging out and bursting in a hollow red light. The towering weapon crumbled instantly, exploding into a fiery cascade of metal and debris.

The shockwave hit them a second later, throwing Tidus and Kimahri back into the sand. Tidus coughed as he sat up, his ears ringing from the blast. Smoke and dust billowed across the beach, the smoldering remains of the machina scattered everywhere. The cries of Crusaders and Al Bhed echoed faintly in the distance, their hope obliterated as Sin seemed to watch.

Kimahri helped Tidus to his feet, his grip steady despite the chaos around them. “We move,” the Ronso said firmly, his voice cutting through the haze. “Find Yuna.”

“Right,” Tidus muttered, his throat dry as they pressed on. They weaved through the wreckage, stepping over bodies and debris, the weight of the destruction bearing down with every step.

Kimahri suddenly stopped, his ears twitching. Tidus opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but the words died in his throat. A shimmer rippled through the air ahead of them, the space warping and twisting unnaturally. Tidus’s heart pounded as the distortion grew, a figure slowly taking shape within the anomaly.

“What the…?” Tidus whispered, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword.

The figure stumbled out of the distortion, collapsing onto the sand with a heavy thud a fair distance away. Tidus’s breath caught as he recognized the prone figure. He and the ronso sprinted forward, watching as the figure tried to stand, only to fall once more, before finally stilling.

“Derek!” Tidus dropped to his knees beside him, rolling him over. Derek’s face was pale, his body frighteningly still. Blood streaked his features—trickling from his nose, eyes, and ears. His breathing was shallow, barely audible over the sound of the waves.

Kimahri knelt on Derek’s other side, his sharp gaze scanning the area before focusing on the injured man. “He… returned.”

“Yeah, but… where did he go, and what happened to him?” Tidus murmured, his voice shaking. He gripped Derek’s shoulder, shaking him gently. “Hey, come on. Wake up!”

Derek didn’t stir, his body limp and unresponsive. Tidus’s gaze drifted to the necklace clutched tightly in Derek’s hand, its faint shimmer catching the light. Whatever Derek had been through, it had left him utterly broken.

Kimahri placed a hand on Tidus’s shoulder, his expression grim. “We take him to Yuna. Now.”

Tidus nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat as they hoisted Derek between them. Kimahri bore most of the weight, his steps steady and unyielding despite the devastation surrounding them. The sands were soaked with blood, the air thick with smoke and despair. Sin's looming shadow stretched over the horizon, a constant reminder of their overwhelming enemy.

As they trudged forward, Tidus’s gaze caught on something ahead—a familiar figure crumpled against the jagged base of the cliff. His heart stopped.

“Here. Hold him!” Tidus said hastily, transferring Derek’s weight fully to Kimahri. Without waiting for a response, he sprinted toward the fallen figure.

“Gatta? Gatta!” Tidus dropped to his knees beside the young Crusader, his hands shaking as he reached out. “Come on, wake up!” His voice cracked with desperation, the words tumbling out in a rush. He gave Gatta’s shoulder a firm shake, willing him to move, to groan, to do anything.

But Gatta didn’t stir.

Tidus’s horror deepened as he touched the boy’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. Gatta’s skin was cold, his face pale, his chest unmoving. The realization hit Tidus like a sledgehammer. His hands fell away, trembling violently, and his face twisted in grief. He choked on a sob before doubling over, his stomach heaving.

He vomited into the sand, his body wracked with pain and nausea. Tears stung his eyes, blurring the scene before him. His mind raced with flashes of Gatta’s eager face, his stubborn determination, his naive hope. The boy hadn’t deserved this.

The words of their earlier conversation echoed in Tidus’s mind, cruel and unrelenting:

"Just doing what they say? It just won’t be enough,” Gatta had confided, his voice heavy with frustration.

"Yeah, you should be out on the front lines,” Tidus had encouraged, trying to lift the boy’s spirits.

"That’s right! It’s not fair!” Gatta had agreed, a flicker of hope returning to his eyes.

"I’ll do something… even if it means bending the rules."

Now, Gatta lay lifeless in the sand, another casualty of an operation doomed from the start. Tidus’s grief gave way to rage, hot and blinding, bubbling up from deep within his chest. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as his breathing grew ragged. He pushed himself to his feet, glaring toward the horizon.

There it was—Sin. The massive, monstrous figure was retreating, its hulking form cutting through the water as it headed back to the open sea.

Tidus’s fury boiled over. “Don’t you run away from me!” he roared, his voice raw and guttural, echoing across the beach.

Without a second thought, he took off, leaving Kimahri behind and sprinting down the shoreline, his legs burning with effort. The shadow of Sin grew smaller with every passing second, but Tidus refused to stop. He reached the water’s edge and dove in, the cold ocean biting against his skin as he swam with all the strength he could muster.

Each stroke was fueled by his rage, his grief, and the sheer, stubborn refusal to let Sin escape. Water filled his ears, muffling the world around him, but his focus remained locked on the fading silhouette in the distance. His muscles screamed in protest, his lungs burned for air, but he didn’t care. He pushed harder, faster, his body moving on sheer determination.

“Don’t you dare run away!” he shouted again, muffled in the water, his voice breaking as he kicked against the waves. Tears mixed with the saltwater streaming down his face, his vision blurring as he swam toward the impossible.

But Sin’s massive figure grew fainter, its shadow swallowed by the horizon. Tidus’s strokes slowed, his body finally succumbing to exhaustion. His arms felt like lead. He stopped, floating aimlessly in the vast ocean, the silence deafening as Sin disappeared completely.

For a moment, all Tidus could do was tread water, his chest heaving, his mind numb. Then, with a guttural cry, he slammed his fists into the waves, the water splashing up around him as his grief spilled out unchecked.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

–

The sand shifts beneath their feet as Wakka and Lulu slide down a slope to the beach, the aftermath of the Al Bhed’s failed assault against Sin leaving the landscape battered and broken. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore is almost deafening, mingling with the faint crackle of smoldering debris. Wakka waves the smoke from his eyes, scanning the beach, when his gaze locks onto a familiar figure in the distance.

“Kimahri!” he calls out, his voice carrying across the sands.

The Ronso turns sharply, his sharp golden eyes narrowing as they fall on the pair. He’s crouched low, his broad frame hunched over another figure lying in the sand. Wakka and Lulu exchange a worried glance before rushing forward, the grim scene becoming clearer with every step.

“Derek…” Lulu murmurs as they reach them, her gaze falling to the unconscious form sprawled across the beach. Derek’s skin is pale, his body limp, and blood streaks his face. The sight makes her stomach twist.

“Help,” Kimahri grunts, his deep voice steady but urgent as he shifts Derek onto his shoulder. “We move. Sinspawn may return.”

Wakka immediately steps forward, his strong arms reaching to take some of Derek’s weight. “We’ve got him, big guy. C’mon, let’s get him somewhere safe.”

As they attempt to lift Derek between them, Lulu lingers behind, her sharp eyes catching something glinting in the dull light. Her breath hitches when she sees it—the pendant. It dangles from Derek’s clenched grip, the silver chain tangled with sweat and blood. Her heart lurches as recognition sets in, and for a moment, she can’t breathe.

“Lu?” Wakka calls over his shoulder, his voice tinged with concern when he notices she’s not following. Kimahri and Wakka slowly lower Derek’s limp form.

She doesn’t respond immediately, her focus entirely on the pendant. Her fingers tremble as she crouches, carefully prying it from Derek’s hand. The moment it’s free, she stares at it, her vision blurring with unshed tears. “This… this was Chappu’s,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Wakka freezes, his grip on Derek tightening when he realizes. He stares at the limp man as things click into place. He.. he did it.. he went back. His shoulders sag slightly, but he doesn’t look up. “Lulu…”

Her voice sharpens, cutting through the air like a blade. “Why does he have this? This was Chappu’s! I gave it to him months before he left for the Crusaders! They never found it on his broken body or what was left of him!” Her words are laced with anger and grief, her hands trembling as she clutches the pendant to her chest.

Kimahri says nothing, his expression unreadable as he watches her silently.

Wakka finally turns, his face pale, his mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find the words. “Lulu, I… I asked him.”

Her gaze snaps to him, blazing with disbelief. “What?”

“I asked Derek, back on the Highroad,” Wakka admits, his voice shaking. “I asked him to… to go back… to Chappu—if he could. I didn’t know he’d—” His voice falters, the words catching in his throat as Lulu’s stare pierces through him.

“You asked him?” Her voice trembles, caught between anger and confusion, each word laced with accusation. “Wakka, how could you? This…” Her hands clench around the pendant so tightly her knuckles turn white. “This is why Derek’s—” her gaze shifts to Derek’s face, blood streaked from almost every orifice, sunken eyes, he looks dead. “You asked him to save Chappu!?”

Wakka flinches, his shoulders sagging under the weight of her words. “I didn’t mean—”

Before he can respond further, the sound of approaching footsteps cuts through the tension. All heads turn as Auron and Yuna descend from the cliff, their faces etched with exhaustion and concern. Yuna’s eyes widen the moment she spots Derek’s limp form. She rushes forward, a faint light already glowing around her.

Auron’s steps are slower, lagging behind, as his sharp amber eye sweeps over the scene. His gaze lingers on Derek, his expression hardening. For a fleeting moment, his usual stoic mask falters, revealing a flicker of something raw—shock, anger, and a hint of despair. But just as quickly, it vanishes, replaced by the cold, commanding presence that settles heavily over the group like a storm about to break.

“What happened?” Yuna asks, her voice soft but urgent as she drops to her knees beside Derek. A faint glow surrounds her hands as healing magic flows into his battered body, her brow furrowed with worry.

Auron’s gaze, however, locks onto Wakka and Lulu. His sharp eye narrows, his presence chilling as he steps closer. “Explain,” he says, his tone low and dangerous, though his anger simmers just beneath the surface.

Wakka swallows hard, his gaze dropping to the sand as though seeking refuge there. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just… I just wanted Chappu back. I didn’t think—” His words falter, his voice cracking under the weight of guilt.

“What. Happened?” Auron cuts him off, his tone sharper now.

Lulu’s anger, already bubbling to the surface, flares with intensity as she whirls on Auron, her voice shaking but strong. “Derek—he went back… to save Chappu. To undo…” She falters for a moment, steadying herself as she takes a trembling breath. “It must not have worked. But he brought back something that was thought to be lost.” Her gaze lowers to the pendant in her hand, her fingers trembling as she grips it. “He nearly died for this.”

Auron’s jaw tightens, his posture stiffening as his gaze shifts briefly to Derek. The battered young man is barely breathing, his face pale, the blood. Auron’s fists clench at his sides, and his voice, when it comes, is low and seething. “You sent him… on a fool’s errand?” His words are directed at Wakka, but there’s a ripple of fury beneath them that seems to encompass the situation as a whole.

“I didn’t mean for him to go through all this!” Wakka blurts, his voice defensive yet cracking with guilt. “I didn’t think it would be like this… I didn’t think he’d actually try—”

“That’s the problem, Wakka,” Lulu interjects sharply, her voice trembling with both grief and fury. “You didn’t think. And now look at him!” She gestures toward Derek’s unconscious body, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “He could’ve died because of you. We could have lost them both!”

Yuna’s soft voice cuts through the tension as she leans over Derek, her hands glowing steadily with white magic. “Please… stop arguing. He’s stable, but he’s not out of danger yet.” Her voice is strained, a plea wrapped in quiet authority. “We need to focus on helping him, not fighting.”

The group falls silent, the weight of her words pressing down on them. Lulu’s hands drop to her sides, the pendant still clutched tightly, and Wakka looks away, his shoulders hunched as shame washes over him. Auron’s piercing gaze lingers on Wakka for a moment longer before he finally exhales, stepping back.

“This conversation isn’t over,” Auron says, his tone unyielding. His gaze lingers on Derek’s unconscious form, his expression hard but flickering briefly with something akin to loss and longing. “But it can wait. For now, we move. Where’s the boy?”

Kimahri, who has remained silent throughout the exchange, finally speaks, his deep voice cutting through the tense air. “He swims to Sin.” The Ronso turns his sharp gaze out to the water, the faintest ripple of disapproval in his usually stoic demeanor. “He will not catch it.”

Yuna’s head snaps up at that, her eyes widening with alarm. But her hands don’t falter in their work, the soft glow of healing magic still enveloping Derek. Her voice trembles, the effort to remain composed evident in every word. “Let’s get Derek to safer sands… then we can look for Tidus.”

Her calm determination anchors the group, though the weight of the situation is tangible. Wakka glances out at the distant waves, guilt flickering across his features before he moves to help. The tension between him and Lulu hangs in the air like a storm cloud, unspoken but heavy.

With Kimahri’s steady strength and Wakka’s assistance, they lift Derek carefully. His body hangs limp between them, his face still pale but his color returning. Each step they take is slow, the silence broken only by the crunch of sand beneath their feet and the distant roar of the ocean. Lulu lingers behind, her grip on the pendant tightening. Her eyes remain fixed on it, emotions warring within her—shock, anger, grief, and a deep, unrelenting confusion.

Finally, she moves, trailing after the group, her usual poise replaced with a rare vulnerability.

As they move down the beach, the shadow of Sin still lingers on the horizon, a grim reminder of the destruction left in its wake. And though the group presses forward, the tension between them remains, the consequences of Wakka’s desperate request hanging heavily in the air.

–

The ache in my body is dull this time, a lingering reminder of what I’ve been through. Sand clings to my skin, slightly warmer than before, gritty against the dampness of my clothes. I blink slowly, the grey sky above blurring into focus. Waves crashing against each other fills my ears, but the air is thick with the acrid scent of smoke and death. A groan escapes me as I stir, my muscles sluggish and uncooperative. Turning my head, I spot Tidus lying next to me. His eyes are open, fixed on the sky, lost in thought.

“Hey, kid,” I rasp, my voice dry and cracked from disuse.

Tidus startles, his body jerking as he turns sharply to face me. For a brief moment, relief washes over his face, softening the lines of worry. “Oh, hey. You looked dead, man,” he says with a faint laugh, the kind that carries more nerves than humor.

A weak chuckle escapes me, but it hurts to laugh, my ribs protesting the motion. With effort, I push myself upright, biting back a grunt of pain. Tidus joins me, sitting nearby. Together, we gaze out across the beach. Further down the shore, bodies are lined up in neat rows, lifeless and still. In the middle of it all, Yuna dances.

Her movements are graceful, almost otherworldly, as pyreflies rise from the corpses in shimmering trails and drifting into the sky.

A heavy hand lands on my shoulder, making me jump slightly. I glance over and see Auron crouching to sit beside me. He’s so close there’s barely a breath of space between us, yet he doesn’t look at me. His gaze is fixed on the horizon, staring out at the endless sea.

Tidus stands, offering me a small nod before walking toward Yuna, leaving Auron and me alone.

“If you’re going to yell at me…” I start weakly, but the words falter.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Auron interrupts, his voice low, the weight of his words pressing heavily into the fragile air between us.

The rawness in his tone stills whatever half-formed excuse I was about to offer. Turning slightly to look at him, I catch the worry etched into his face, carved deep into the lines around his mouth and the furrow of his brow. Shame and guilt swell in my chest, knotting my insides as his words continue with a softness I’ve heard only once, during the intimate moment we shared.

“I watched you fall,” he says, the words slow and deliberate. “Then you disappeared.” His gaze remains on the horizon, unflinching. “At first, there was a part of me that thought… maybe you’d found your way back. That all this—” he gestures faintly to the destruction around us “—fighting, danger, Sin, would just become part of your past. That you’d escape it.”

I stay silent, the atmosphere between us delicate, as though it might shatter under the weight of anything less than honesty.

“But then,” he continues, his voice dropping, “I started to wonder. What if you didn’t? What if you were lost, drifting further and further from home? What if you’d found yourself trapped… caught in the fragile space between time, unable to return?”

His voice trembles, just slightly, and for a man as resolute as Auron is, it’s enough to cut through me like a blade. “And for a moment…” he pauses, exhaling deeply as though the admission costs him. “I was selfish. I wanted you back.” A humorless laugh escapes him, sharp and bitter. “I let you fall.”

The confession hangs heavy in the air, his words raw and unguarded. I can see it now—just how deeply my fall shook him, how much weight he carries on his broad shoulders. It’s not anger I feel, not even disappointment, but something deeper. Gratitude, maybe. That someone like Auron—so strong, so steadfast—could care enough to feel this way about me.

“You didn’t let me fall,” I say quietly, my voice steady. “You reached for me.”

“It wasn’t enough,” Auron argues, his voice low but laced with frustration.

“It was,” I insist, my tone soft but firm. “You did what you could. I just… fell.” The words come out unfiltered, unashamedly honest. A silence falls between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. The kind that lets the weight of everything linger, shared but unspoken.

My body aches with exhaustion, and I stop fighting it. Leaning against Auron, I let myself collapse into his solid frame. He stiffens at first but after a moment, I feel him relent. His sleeved arm wraps around me, his hand steadying at my hip, grounding me in a way I didn’t realize I needed.

“I went back,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly would undo me. “To the past.”

Auron doesn’t respond, but I can feel him listening, his presence heavy and attentive. Encouraged by his silence, I press on. “I saw him… Chappu.” The name feels strange on my tongue, like a memory dredged up from a distant place. “I don’t even know how it happened. One moment I was falling, and then… I was there. Two years into the past. I thought he was Wakka at first.”

Still, Auron says nothing, his stillness unyielding but somehow comforting.

“He was already hurt,” I continue, the words flowing now as the memory unfolds, vivid and raw. “Sin was there on the beach, approaching closer and closer. I tried to heal him. I thought—if I could just save him, bring him back with me, maybe…” My voice falters, and I take a shaky breath. “But the longer I stayed, the more it killed me.”

I feel Auron shift slightly beside me, but he doesn’t interrupt. His silence speaks volumes—an unspoken understanding that urges me to continue.

“He stopped me,” I say, my voice breaking. “He told me he wouldn’t let me die. Not for him. He made me promise to take care of them. Made me promise-” My gaze drops sharply to the sand, the words ringing in my ears as if Chappu himself had whispered them again.

The pendant.

My hands twitch as I sit upright, digging into the sand with a frantic desperation. I need to feel it—some proof of what I’ve done, some proof it wasn’t all in vain.

“She has it,” Auron says simply, his voice low and steady.

I freeze, my shoulders slumping as the weight of his words settles in. Guilt churns in my chest like a storm. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring him back.

“I... I need to talk to her,” I mutter, my voice barely audible.

Auron rises, offering me his hand. I wince as I get to my feet, his grip steadying me until I can stand on my own. He nods toward them. Lulu sits on a stone near the water, her gaze distant. Wakka sits cross-legged in the sand beside her, his broad back hunched forward, his posture heavy with defeat.

As I turn to approach them, Auron stops me with a firm grip on my arm. “He shouldn’t have asked that of you,” he says, his voice carrying a rare edge. “He knew how much it hurt you, yet he asked anyway.”

I meet his gaze, searching for something in the lines of his expression. His intent is clear—he’s angry, frustrated, but it’s not directed at me.

“It was his brother, Auron,” I say softly.

“Even so.” His voice is unwavering, resolute.

I hesitate before responding, my voice quiet but firm. “I would do it for you.”

The words hang in the air like a stone dropped in still water. Auron’s hand loosens from my arm, his fingers slipping away as if the strength to hold on has left him. His face shutters, a flicker of emotion passing across his usually stoic features—despair? Worry? Something I can’t quite place.

For a moment, I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing, but I push the thought aside. I can’t dwell on it now.

Steeling myself, I turn away and focus on my balance as I walk toward Lulu and Wakka, the crunch of sand beneath my boots loud in the silence. They don’t acknowledge me, their minds clearly elsewhere, tangled in thoughts I can’t yet reach.

As I approach, it becomes clear Lulu isn’t staring at the sea at all. Her focus is entirely on the pendant in her hands, her fingers ghosting over its edges with a care that feels almost reverent. The sight sends a sharp ache through my chest. Wakka sits nearby, his back to me, shoulders hunched, his frame bowed as though carrying a weight he can’t put down. His stillness feels heavier than any words.

I swallow hard, willing myself to move forward. My boots crunch softly against the sand, each step dragging with the weight of what I need to say. I don’t know how to make this right, but I have to try.

“Lulu, Wakka…”

My voice cuts through the quiet, and Lulu’s head snaps up. Her eyes meet mine, sharp and searching, her expression guarded but trembling with something beneath the surface—anger? Fear? I can’t tell. Wakka doesn’t turn at first, but his shoulders tense, and after a moment, he shifts slightly, just enough to glance over his shoulder, his face partially obscured.

“I…” The words catch in my throat, my gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m sorry.”

Lulu’s brow furrows, seemingly caught off guard, her lips tightening. “Sorry?” she repeats, her voice calm but laced with tension. “For what?”

I force myself to meet her eyes. “… I couldn’t save him,” I say quietly, the confession tearing its way out. “I tried. I swear I tried. He was right there, but… I failed. He refused my help, wouldn’t allow me to-” My voice breaks as I drop my gaze to the sand. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment, the only sound is the waves crashing in the distance. Then Lulu’s grip on the pendant tightens. When she speaks, her voice trembles. “You think that’s why we’re upset?”

Her words make me blink, startled. My mouth opens to speak but the black mage is quicker.

“No, Derek.” Her voice is sharp now, cutting through the haze of my shame. “Do you think we wanted this? That we wanted you to risk your life for this?” She holds up the pendant, her fingers trembling. “Do you think Chappu would’ve wanted that?”

Wakka’s voice, low and raw, stops me from saying a word. “We thought we lost you, ya?” He finally turns fully, his face pale and eyes glassy, as though the words themselves are too much. “Your face… I thought you were gone. And all I could think was… I asked you to carry that weight. I made you do it.”

The confession hits like a blow, and I can only stare at him. “I wanted him back,” Wakka continues, his voice cracking. “I wanted my brother. But not like this.”

Lulu’s expression softens, though tears brim in her eyes. “You could have died,” she says quietly, her voice trembling now. “For a wish we never should’ve put on you.”

I stagger under the weight of their words, the realization sinking in like a stone. I thought I’d failed them—that their anger, their pain, was directed at me for not bringing Chappu back. But that wasn’t it at all.

Their grief isn’t for him. It’s for me.

“I couldn’t…” My voice falters, the enormity of it all threatening to choke me. “I couldn’t just—”

Lulu steps forward suddenly, the pendant still clutched tightly in her hand. Her movements are deliberate, controlled, but the storm of emotions in her eyes betrays her. She stops inches from me, her gaze piercing, her voice low but unwavering. “If you had known him, you wouldn’t have listened to Wakka. If you had told me, I would’ve said the same.” There’s a tremor in her tone, grief and frustration tightly wound together. “Chappu would’ve stopped you himself. He never would’ve let you go this far.”

Her voice cracks, a fissure in the carefully composed mask she wears. Tears brim in her eyes, threatening to spill over, and before I can find the words, she steps forward. In one swift, desperate motion, she pulls me into a fierce embrace. Her arms wrap tightly around me, as if holding on to something fragile, something she can’t bear to lose again. “And he didn’t,” she whispers, her voice breaking as the tears finally spill, soaking into my shoulder.

I stand frozen, the weight of her grief washing over me, heavy and unrelenting. It’s not just her pain—it’s Wakka’s, Chappu’s, all of it tangled together and suffocating. Her voice softens against me, trembling but steady, each word cutting deep. “He made his choice to leave two years ago. And while I’ve wished every day that he was still here, I know he left with no regrets.” She pauses, her grip on me tightening for a fleeting moment before she continues, quieter now, but resolute. “Sending you back to us… refusing your sacrifice—it proves that he would do it all over again. And that is more closure than I could ever hope for.”

The lump in my throat swells until it feels unbearable, but I don’t trust myself to speak. Instead, I nod, sagging into Lulu’s hold as the tension drains out of me. Her arms tighten briefly before she steps back, her hands lingering on my arms. Wakka looks away, his hands clenched into fists in his lap, but the words he doesn’t say are written all over his face.

Lulu takes a stuttered breath before sliding past, her footsteps retreating softly behind me. Wakka stays rooted in place. For a moment, he seems like he might get up and follow her, but he doesn’t move. Instead, his head lowers, and I catch the faint tremor in his shoulders. Quietly, I sit beside him on the sand, the weight of the moment settling between us.

The waves crash softly in the distance, a steady rhythm that feels oddly jarring against the silence between us. I glance at him, and my chest tightens when I notice the way his hands clench against his knees, knuckles white, his grip trembling as though it’s the only thing keeping him together. Then I see it—tears trailing down his face, carving through the dirt and blood smeared on his cheeks. He’s turned away slightly, hiding them as best he can.

I sharply avert my gaze, giving him the space he needs. My eyes find the water instead, watching the horizon blur as the salty breeze stings my own eyes. The silence stretches, growing heavier with each passing second. I’m about to speak, to break it somehow, when Wakka’s shoulders shake again, and a muffled sound escapes him—a sound that’s raw and unguarded.

I don’t say anything. Instead, I reach out, my hand settling on his shoulder, and give a gentle tug, pulling him against me. He doesn’t resist. His weight leans into mine, heavy and solid, and I feel the tremor in his body as he finally lets go. A hand rises to his face, and his muffled sobs carry softly on the wind. It’s like losing his brother twice now, and I can feel the sharp edges of that grief cutting into both of us.

I don’t try to comfort him with words. Nothing I could say would be enough. So I just sit there, steady against him, and let him grieve. He tries to hold it in—Wakka always tries to hold it in—but no matter how tightly he clamps his mouth shut, the sounds still escape. Small, broken things that speak louder than any words.

When the tears finally ebb and his breathing steadies, Wakka doesn’t pull away. Instead, he sits motionless, his head hanging low and his shoulders slumped as though the weight of the world is pressing down on him. When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse and raw. “Y’know,” he starts, swallowing hard, “I keep thinkin’… about what you saw… over there.”

I feel the tension coil tighter in my chest. My throat constricts, and for a moment, I hesitate. But I owe him honesty, even if it hurts. “I won’t lie, Wakka. He was in… rough shape. I healed him the best I could.”

Wakka drags a trembling hand down his face, wiping at the streaks of tears left behind. His gaze drops to the sand in front of him, and his fingers dig into it, clawing at the grains as if trying to find something solid to hold onto. He nods faintly, like he expected the answer. Maybe he did, considering what they found of Chappu afterwards. “I hated it,” he admits, his voice cracking like a dam ready to break. “When he left. When he joined the Crusaders, I hated him for it. I was so mad, ya? I told him he didn’t need to go. That it wasn’t worth it.”

He pauses, his breath hitching as he struggles to keep his composure. “But he went anyway,” he continues, each word heavier than the last. “And he died. Just like I said he would.”

I glance at him, but he’s still staring at the sand, his hands now motionless but still buried in it. His words hang in the air between us, raw and unfiltered. There’s no anger in his voice, only grief—and regret.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” he whispers, his tone barely audible over the gentle crash of the waves. “Didn’t get to tell him I… I didn’t mean all the things I said. That I just… I just didn’t want to lose him.”

I stay silent, giving him the space he needs to let it out. There’s nothing I can say that will make this easier, nothing I can offer to ease the ache of that kind of regret. So I wait, listening, letting the sound of his voice carry the weight of his sorrow.

Wakka’s voice trembles as he continues. “But then you… you were there with him. In his last moments. And I keep thinkin’… maybe… maybe you gave him somethin’ I couldn’t. Maybe you gave him some peace, ya?”

His words strike me harder than I expect. My hand tightens reflexively on his shoulder, and my chest aches as memories of Chappu flood back—his face pale and drawn, but his smile steady, filled with a quiet courage I can’t forget. “He wasn’t alone,” I manage quietly, my voice rough with emotion. “I made sure he knew. He knew you and Lulu still cared. That you both still loved him.”

Wakka nods slowly, his lips pressed into a trembling line as he swallows back the emotions threatening to spill over again. “I want to believe he wasn’t angry,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “That he wasn’t… scared.”

I look at him, meeting his watery gaze, and I speak with all the certainty I can muster. “He wasn’t,” I say firmly. “He was stubborn—too damn stubborn to let me help him the way I wanted to. And yeah, he was a right dick for not letting me bring him back.” I sigh, the memory bittersweet. “But he wasn’t scared, Wakka. He didn’t want anyone else to get hurt because of him. He wanted you both to be okay. To move on.”

Wakka’s shoulders sag even further, the tension draining out of him as his hands fall limp at his sides. For a long moment, the only sound between us is the steady rhythm of the waves. Then, slowly, he turns his head just enough to glance at me. His eyes are swollen and red, but there’s a flicker of something else there—gratitude, faint but unmistakable.

“Thanks, man,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sincerity. “For… for bein’ there. For him.”

I nod, the lump in my throat making it impossible to respond with words. The weight of his gratitude settles on me, not as a burden, but as a shared understanding—one that connects the both of us to Chappu in a way words never could. For a fleeting moment, I feel something else, something deeper. As if, in that brief connection, I carried not just Lulu’s and Wakka’s gratitude, but Chappu’s too.

—

The remaining Crusaders wrap and arrange the fallen along the shore, their solemn movements a painful contrast to the earlier chaos. Yuna takes her place among them, performing her sending as the pyreflies rise into the grey sky. The strain on her is evident—her steps falter after the final group, and she nearly collapses. Tidus is quick to guide her to the sand, the two exchanging quiet words. She offers me a faint, tired smile from afar, a gesture that speaks of her gratitude and exhaustion. I nod but leave them to their moment.

Lulu and Wakka rejoin the group not long after. Their faces are pale and worn, their eyes swollen with grief that lingers just beneath the surface. Still, there’s something steadier about their posture now, a weight lifted by the closure they’d found. Kimahri, ever stoic, approaches me briefly, his words short but purposeful. It’s jarring how concise he is, but it seems his presence alone carries meaning. He remains close, unusually so, choosing not to stand in his usual quiet distance.

Auron, however, lingers the furthest away. His presence is heavy, the air around him taut with frustration, though he refuses to meet my gaze. The tension in his posture is firm. I can’t help but wonder if it’s what I had said earlier—something I did.

When Yuna finally gathers her strength, rising alongside Tidus, the group regains its cohesion. Auron, without waiting, moves ahead to confront Maester Kinoc, who stands with Maester Seymour and his Guado entourage just a few paces away.

“A swift retreat. Satisfied?” Auron’s voice is low and clipped, his words brimming with restrained anger.

Kinoc squints, feigning confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Those who turned from Yevon died, while the faithful live on.” Auron delivers the truth plainly, cutting through any facade. It’s a conclusion impossible to ignore.

Kinoc smirks faintly, his gaze sweeping over the group. “The past ten years have changed you, I see.” Without waiting for a reply, he pivots and walks away.

Yuna bows respectfully as he passes, though a frown tugs at her lips. Maester Seymour steps forward next, his gaze landing on her. My attention is drawn briefly to Wakka, who moves toward a line of Crusader corpses, his form heavy with grief.

“You do not look well,” Seymour remarks, his tone laced with feigned concern as his piercing eyes settle on Yuna. “But now, more than ever, you must be the people’s strength. Their confidence. Anyone else would be expected to show their sorrow…” He glances toward Wakka, who performs a Yevonite bow to the fallen Crusaders. “But you… you are a summoner. You are Spira’s hope. Until Sin is defeated, you must not relent. Do you understand?”

Yuna hesitates before nodding, her voice soft but resolute. “Yes. I understand.”

Seymour tilts his head slightly, his expression almost disarming. “Are you afraid?”

Her composure falters, the question catching her off guard. She doesn’t answer, but the silence is telling. The rest of us stay quiet, watching the exchange with growing unease.

“Yuna, take me as your pillar of strength. As Yunalesca had her Lord Zaon.” His words land heavily, the implication making Yuna startle. Her wide eyes betray her surprise at his boldness.

I feel my jaw tighten, the story of Yunalesca and Lord Zaon fresh in my mind. The two statues immortalized in every temple—the summoner and her husband, the first to defeat Sin together. It’s an audacious comparison, and one that sets my nerves on edge.

Seymour seems to notice my gaze, his sharp eyes shifting to meet mine. “Sir Derek, I presume?” he asks smoothly.

My eyes flick to Yuna, her expression tinged with guilt. It confirms my suspicion—she must have mentioned me while I was unconscious. “That’s right,” I reply evenly.

“I am pleased to see you are well. Lady Yuna was quite distressed about your condition.” He pauses, scrutinizing me with unnerving curiosity. “Please, tell me—what had you done to leave yourself in such a vulnerable state?”

The group falls silent, tension palpable. Before anyone else can interject, I answer smoothly, my voice calm. “The fall was… more damaging than what the others experienced, unfortunately. Though I appreciate your concern, it’s unnecessary. I’m fine.”

Seymour hums thoughtfully, his lips curving into a faint smile. He opens his mouth, undoubtedly to press further, but I cut him off, steering the conversation.

“Bold of you,” I remark, my tone sharp but composed, “to make assumptions with our summoner.”

Seymour arches a brow. “Excuse me?”

“Yunalesca and Lord Zaon? You wish her to see you as what—a husband?” My words are pointed, deliberate. The tension within the group spikes. Yuna’s eyes widen, and even Lulu turns sharply toward me, startled. “She barely knows you,” I finish with quiet finality.

For a moment, Seymour seems caught off guard, but he quickly recovers, his chuckle soft and measured. “Lady Yuna, an intriguing choice in finding a guardian with such a sharp tongue,” he says, his gaze sliding back to her. “Though having guardians with such skepticism will no doubt serve you well on your journey.”

Yuna straightens, her voice firm despite the lingering awkwardness. “Yes. I trust Sir Derek completely.”

Seymour studies her for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression, before offering a warm smile. With a bow, he steps back. “Lady Yuna, until we meet again… farewell.”

Despite his composed demeanor, Seymour turns sharply on his heel, his robes swishing dramatically as he strides away from the group, his Guado guards trailing behind. I watch him go with narrowed eyes, the unease settling deep in my chest.

“Derek, was that really necessary?” Yuna’s soft voice cuts through the silence. She flushes slightly, her tone carrying a mix of concern and gentle reprimand as she pouts at me.

I raise my hands in feigned defense, my lips quirking into a small, sardonic smile. “What, being honest?”

Before Yuna can reply, Tidus jumps in, his fist pumping the air enthusiastically. “Heck yeah, that was necessary! You totally showed him!” His grin is wide and unrepentant, the tension broken, at least for him.

Lulu, ever the composed one, exhales quietly and shakes her head, disappointment flickering in her expression as she fixes Tidus with a sharp look.

“Why? Because I’m good with words?” I ask mockingly, arching an eyebrow at the boy.

“Well, yeah! What else is there?” Tidus sticks his tongue out playfully, and I smack him lightly on the forehead with the flat of my hand.

“Ow!” he exclaims, rubbing the spot with an exaggerated pout.

My smile fades, replaced by a frown as I turn my attention back to Yuna. “Did you tell him, Yuna?”

The summoner blinks, tilting her head in confusion. “Hm?”

“Anything regarding my… time magic,” I clarify, my voice lowering slightly as the weight of the question lingers in the air.

Yuna’s brows furrow as she thinks back, shaking her head. “No,” she says carefully. “Though, Maester Seymour did ask me the same thing he asked you…” Her voice trails off, her gaze distant as she recalls the moment. The rest of the group leans in slightly, curiosity etched into their features. “He seemed very convinced that it was something you did. I didn’t know what to say, so I told him it would be safer to ask you once you woke up.”

Before I can respond, Auron speaks up, his deep voice cutting through the moment with quiet authority. “It was wise of you to withhold that information, Yuna.” His tone is calm but carries a protective edge that makes me pause. His gaze, however, remains fixed ahead, deliberately avoiding mine.

I glance at him sharply, my frustration simmering. “Auron—”

“Derek’s magic,” he cuts me off, his voice firmer now, “is Derek’s business, who he shares it with is his choice. Not Seymour’s. Not Yevon’s. And certainly not anyone who would twist it for their own purposes.”

The weight in his words, his implications, hangs heavily in the air, silencing the group. It’s not just a statement—it’s a shield, drawn and held firmly in place. His defense of me is clear, even if his gaze won’t meet mine. There’s a tension in his posture, a quiet defiance directed at anyone who might challenge him on this.

Yuna blinks, her lips parting slightly as if to respond, but she hesitates. Tidus, uncharacteristically quiet, shifts awkwardly, his gaze darting between Auron and me. Even Lulu’s sharp eyes soften slightly, though she remains contemplatively silent.

I exhale slowly, the tension between Auron and me lingering like shadow. Without a word, the monk strides ahead, his steps unwavering. He doesn’t look back, but the silent expectation is clear. And one by one, we follow.

Chapter Text

“Hey, you guys! Hurry up!” Yuna calls out, waving cheerily. But there’s something off about her tone. The smile she wears doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“She’s awfully cheerful,” Tidus ponders aloud, his brow furrowing.

I hum in agreement, the falseness not lost on me.

“In dark times, she must be. She must shine bright,” Kimahri answers solemnly, his deep voice gravelly and even.

Tidus and I exchange glances, his quirked brow asking the question neither of us voices.

“Now are dark times,” the Ronso continues. “Yuna tries hard.” The simplicity of his statement masks the complexity of what he’s saying.

Tidus seems to take that in, his expression shifting to something more serious. “Then we should help her,” he says resolutely.

"That might backfire, kid.” I say with a frown.

Tidus tilts his head. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Kimahri nods, his sharp gaze fixed ahead. “If we worry, she tries harder. Do not frown.”

Tidus looks doubtful, his mouth twisting in skepticism. “Don’t worry, be happy?” he parrots, his tone tinged with sarcasm.

The Ronso huffs in response. “Kimahri try, too.”

I can’t help but bark out a laugh. “Really now? Let’s see it, then.”

Tidus grins, catching on. “Yeah! Smile for us! Show us what you got.”

Kimahri attempts a smile, but it’s more of a grimace, his fangs bared awkwardly. It looks almost painful.

“Sad,” Tidus sighs, deflating dramatically.

Shaking my head with a grin, I can’t help but enjoy the moment. Kimahri, typically silent and reserved, is trying to connect in his own gruff way. It’s refreshing.

We catch up to the group, but my gaze inevitably drifts to Auron. His back is stiff, his shoulders tense—his usual stoicism edged with something sharper.

Yuna slows her pace until she’s walking beside me. “Are you alright?” she asks sweetly, her voice soft and full of genuine concern. The ever-present smile lingers on her lips, but I can see the flicker of worry beneath it.

I sigh, the heaviness in my chest refusing to lift. “Everything still feels… raw,” I admit, rolling my neck to stretch out a kink in my shoulder. “But I’m worried about Auron.”

“Sir Auron?” she echoes, her brow knitting together.

I nod. “Yeah, he’s angrier than usual. Don’t you think?”

Her steps falter slightly, and when she glances up, her smile is gone. “He… he was really worried about you,” she says hesitantly, like she’s testing the waters. Her voice dips, almost shyly. “You two seem very close.” A soft flush blooms on her cheeks as she looks away. “I think he’s… scared. That you might do it again.”

The bluntness of her words catches me off guard. My brows raise, but her statement lingers in my mind. I think back to Auron’s constant glances, his lingering touches, the way he’s stayed closer than usual before the operation. Now… there’s a space in between and I’m not sure I like it. I can’t ignore how him just being there, had grown on me. More than I want to admit.

What’s stranger still, is that I don’t even try to correct her. To tell her that she’s wrong, that it’s nothing like what she thinks, that no we’re not close. The realization heats my face, and I look away quickly, clearing my throat.

Yuna giggles softly, her hand coming up to stifle the sound. I send her a half-hearted glare, but there’s no bite to it. Her smile grows as she sees through my attempt to deflect.

“He thinks he failed,” I say finally, my voice quieter. “That he let me fall.”

“But—” Yuna starts, I cut her off gently.

“I know, I told him already. But Auron’s stubborn. He knows what he saw, and to him, everything that happened after feels like a direct consequence of that moment.”

She bumps into me softly, her shoulder brushing against mine. “We never did get a chance to talk. Will you tell me what happened?” she asks, her voice gentle yet curious.

I blink at her, realizing that I haven’t told her the full story yet. “Ah, right. I guess we haven’t.”

Yuna listens intently as I recount the events. I tell her about seeing Chappu on the shore, about the pain in his voice and the determination in his eyes. I explain how he stopped me, even when I was ready to risk everything, and how I ended up with the pendant.

Her expression shifts as I speak, her features softening with sympathy. At the mention of Chappu, her gaze drops slightly, her smile faltering, but she doesn’t interrupt. I continue, telling her about my conversation with Lulu and Wakka, about the grief and the closure I had hoped they found in the aftermath.

By the time I finish, Yuna’s steps have slowed, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Chappu…” she whispers, almost to herself. Her eyes flick to the horizon, her expression carefully neutral for a moment. Then she looks back at me, her voice steady despite the emotion in her eyes. “Thank you for telling me. ”

Her words linger, heavier than they should be, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable—it’s full of understanding. But my gaze drifts forward, landing on Auron. His broad shoulders remain stiff, his entire frame locked with tension that refuses to ease. Even from this distance, I can feel it radiating off him.

“Excuse me, Yuna,” I say softly.

She looks at me, her sad smile shifting to something knowing. “Good luck.”

Smirking slightly, I move ahead, nodding briefly at Lulu and Wakka as I pass them. Their focus remains on the road, though I catch the faintest flicker of acknowledgment from Lulu’s eyes. I quicken my pace and fall in step beside Auron, his presence as steady and immovable as ever. The moment I’m near, his shoulders stiffen further, and his gaze stays fixed straight ahead.

“Hey,” I say quietly, testing the waters.

“…”

Frowning, I push just a little more. “If you’re going to be angry with me, at least tell me why.”

“I’m not—” His head snaps toward me sharply, and the words catch in his throat.

I raise a brow, letting the silence hang between us. His mouth clamps shut, and I watch as his scowl deepens, his gaze shifting away like he’s trying to suppress something.

A small smile tugs at my lips. “So he can speak,” I tease gently.

The faintest huff escapes him, caught somewhere between annoyance and reluctant amusement. It’s short-lived, and the scowl remains firmly in place, but I catch the soft exhale, the crack in his defenses.

“Auron… please?” My tone softens, the teasing edge gone.

I watch the faintest flicker of hesitation cross his face. Something stirs in my chest—a warmth I can’t quite explain. It’s subtle, but I see the walls start to crumble, brick by reluctant brick. His pace remains steady, but after a beat, he reaches up, pulls off his glasses, and tucks them into his haori. He turns his head just slightly, enough for me to catch the edge of his expression.

“I’m not angry at you,” he says finally, his voice quiet but firm.

I don’t buy it. “Well, you’re clearly angry about something.”

He exhales heavily, a sound weighed down with frustration—not at me, I realize, but at himself. His head tilts down slightly, and for a moment, I think he’s not going to answer. Then, his voice cuts through the silence, low and gruff. “I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

The confession catches me off guard, my steps faltering slightly as the words sink in. There’s a raw honesty in his tone, a vulnerability he rarely allows to surface. He doesn’t look at me, but I can see the tension in his jaw, the way his hand flexes within the folds of his haori.

I stare at him, the weight of his admission settling in my chest. “Auron…” My voice comes out softer than I intend, almost unsure.

His pace never falters, but his head tilts slightly in acknowledgment, as if waiting for me to respond. And in that moment, I realize it’s about him—about the guilt he carries, the fear that no matter how strong or skilled he is, it won’t be enough.

“You can’t protect me from everything,” I say finally, my voice steady but gentle.

He lets out another sigh, quieter this time, his jaw clenching like he’s trying to work through the cluster of thoughts in his head. “You shouldn’t have fallen in the first place.”

“And you shouldn’t have been put in a position where you thought you let me,” I counter smoothly. “But we’re here now, and that has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

For a long moment, he says nothing. Then, slowly, his shoulders loosen, the tension ebbing ever so slightly. He glances at me, and for the first time, there’s no scowl, no mask—just Auron.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” he mutters, but there’s no bite in his tone.

I smirk faintly. “So are you.”

His lips twitch, just barely, and for a brief second, I think I see the ghost of a smile. He slips his glasses back on, his face settling back into its familiar stoicism, but the weight between us feels lighter somehow. But although the tension seems to fall slightly off his shoulders, it's still there, lingering.

I can’t help but glance back at him wondering if there’s more. But his face isn’t etched in worry anymore so I take it as a win.

The Djose Highroad is a graveyard of shattered spirits. Crusaders limp along the path, some clutching wounds, others too lost in despair to acknowledge their injuries. Their numbers have dwindled to a painful fraction of what they once were. The air is thick with silence, save for the occasional murmur of disbelief or whispered grief.

The absence of any Al Bhed does not go unnoticed. My stomach twists at the realization—they must have all perished within their machina. Their sacrifice, wiped from existence as if they were never there at all.

One by one, we pass crusaders whose wills have been ground into the dirt along with their fallen comrades.

“The Crusaders have been ordered to regroup at Djose Temple. Not many left to regroup, but… It’s my fault. My men died in vain because of me. It’s all my fault.”

“We’ve decided to rest at the temple. I just hope they let us. We’ve been excommunicated, after all. They might throw us out.”

“My comrades are dead, all because we ignored the teachings. Relying on forbidden machina… What the heck were we thinking?”

Each crusader carries their own brand of suffering, their words tinged with self-loathing and resignation. When they approach Yuna, their hands tremble as they press gifts into hers—items, potions, anything they have left to offer. A desperate attempt to make amends, as if aiding a summoner’s pilgrimage will absolve them of their perceived sins.

She tries to refuse, her voice gentle but insistent. They need these more than we do. But when she sees the way they shrink under the weight of their guilt, as if her rejection would be a final condemnation, she relents. Her hands close over theirs, accepting their gifts with the kindest of smiles.

Wakka is silent through it all.

He stands rigid, watching, listening as these soldiers mourn their choices. His usual fire, his instinct to defend Yevon’s teachings, is absent. He doesn’t chastise them, nor does he console them. He simply absorbs their grief.

I catch Lulu watching him as well, her keen eyes noting his silence, but she says nothing. There’s something shifting in him—something he’s only just beginning to wrestle with.

When his gaze drifts to mine, he startles, as if caught in a moment of weakness. He looks away quickly, rubbing the back of his neck, but whether it’s out of shame, confusion, or something else entirely, I can’t say.

Above us, the sky remains a blanket of unrelenting gray, a somber reminder of what we survived.

The Mushroom Rock canyons stretch ahead, their towering formations bending and twisting like sentinels of stone.

The road stretches before us, a fork in the path marking the next leg of our journey. One signpost points toward the Moonflow, the other toward Djose Temple. The air remains heavy, the silence between us fragile and filled with unspoken thoughts.

A voice cuts through the quiet.

“Hey! How much longer till Zanarkand?”

Tidus, bright despite everything, drags us from our thoughts. His enthusiasm, though muted, still shines through, like a break in the overcast sky.

“Still a ways,” Wakka mutters, his tone more subdued than usual. There’s a different kind of weight on his shoulders now. His anger, his grief, his regrets—some of it has lifted, but what remains is heavier. A battle within himself, one that won’t be won in a day.

Lulu is the one to elaborate, her voice steady. “First, we travel down the Moonflow to the Guado city of Guadosalam… Then we cross the Thunder Plains to the temple of Macalania.”

“Oh, boy.” Tidus twists toward me, his expression playful despite the exhaustion in his posture. “This is the first time you’re crossing these places too, huh?”

I nod, tilting my head slightly. “Yeah. I’ve read about them—back in the Besaid Temple. But that’s the extent of it.”

At the mention of reading, Tidus visibly grimaces.

Yuna moves past us, her face bright with a genuine smile. “Before that, we get to pray at the temple in Djose!”

Tidus crosses his arms. “We can’t just skip all that? Can we, huh?”

Yuna shakes her head, a gentle but firm refusal. “Mmm-mm. I have to pray to the fayth in every temple in order to earn the Final Aeon.”

Wakka nods, and for the first time since the operation, some of his spirit returns. “That’s a summoner’s training. She’s gotta prepare mind and body—all just to get ready for the Final Summoning.”

Tidus takes a moment to absorb that. His expression shifts, just slightly, something turning in his mind as he considers what that means. “Hmm. Must be tough, Yuna.”

Yuna’s gaze softens, a quiet strength in her smile. A murmur, barely above a whisper. “I’ll be fine with you here.”

I chuckle as Tidus’ face instantly flushes red.

Yuna moves ahead toward Djose Temple, and without hesitation, we follow.

–

“Hey, new guy.” Auron’s voice cuts through the air, gruff and deliberate. He stands just off the path, watching as the rest of the group moves ahead. But his gaze lingers—fixed on Derek.

“Uh… me?” Tidus startles, then scowls.

“Who else?”

With an exaggerated stretch, the blonde folds his arms behind his head, playing off the tension. “What can I do for you, boss?”

Auron doesn’t waste time. “Don’t tell Yuna you know about Sin and Jecht.” The words are plain, but with weight.

Tidus blinks, caught off guard. “Eh?”

“You know her,” Auron continues, his tone weighted with certainty. “She would… distance herself from you. We do not want that.”

The answer doesn’t sit right with Tidus. His brow furrows, lips pressing into a thin line before he tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “Don’t act like that’s not exactly what you were doing, distancing yourself from Derek.”

Auron stiffens. A subtle reaction, but noticeable.

Tidus doesn’t back down, his gaze sharp. “It’s pretty obvious, you know. I’ve known you for, like, almost ten years. You never get close to people.” Then, just as quickly, that sharpness twists into something cheeky. He grins and leans in. “You guys totally did it, didn’t you?”

Auron’s scowl deepens, and with a grunt, he swats the blonde’s face away. “Enough.”

Tidus stumbles back, laughing, but there’s something thoughtful in his expression when he looks at Auron again. The teasing fades, just slightly. “It’s not like I care,” he mutters, voice softer. “You were… happier,” he hesitates, eyes flicking down for a moment before he adds, “You’re back to being annoyingly pissed at everything ever since he got hurt.”

The humor is gone now. He exhales, rubbing at the back of his neck. “He was… pretty bad off, huh? That must’ve sucked, old man.”

Auron doesn’t answer immediately. When he finally does, it’s low and resolute.

“He won’t do it again.”

But even he doesn’t sound convinced. The words land flat between them, carrying the weight of a hope Auron himself isn’t sure of.

Tidus crosses his arms, shifting uncomfortably under the strangely parental tone of the conversation. “Yeah, well…” Tidus sighs, scratching his head, “even if I did say something about my old man, no one would believe me, you know?”

Auron finally turns to him then, meeting his gaze. “Yuna would.”

Tidus blinks, taken aback. “Ah… you have a point.” He exhales, staring off toward the others. “Come to think of it… did I really have to know about Jecht? What about my feelings?”

Auron shrugs, then, a rare thing—a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Better than you finding out at a critical moment and getting emotional.”

Tidus gapes. “What? Me, emotional?”

Auron chuckles, the sound deep and genuine, shaking from his chest. “I heard you were quite the crybaby.”

Tidus recoils, sputtering. “H-Hey! I still don’t buy your story, you hear?”

Auron only chuckles again, stepping ahead to rejoin the others.

–

The Djose Temple looms overhead, its jagged exterior resembling a fortress of stone. Thick rock encases the structure, with only the arched entrance and Yevon’s crest visible, standing solemn against the stormy sky. The air hums with static, the scent of ozone thick as distant lightning flickers across the Mushroom Rock cliffs.

Kimahri steps forward, his sharp gaze locked on a small gathering further down the bridge. His hand lifts in silent indication, pointing toward the figures in the distance—Lucil, Elma, and Clasko. They stand together, tending to a lone chocobo, its golden feathers dull with soot and exhaustion.

As the group approaches, Lucil turns at their arrival, her usually composed features drawn with exhaustion. “Yuna, it is good to see you and your companions are well.”

Yuna clasps her hands together, relief washing over her face. “Yourselves as well, Captain. We were worried. Praise be to Yevon.” She bows deeply, gratitude lacing her voice.

Lucil’s posture wavers slightly, her expression shadowed. “We escaped with our lives… but our troops were decimated.” The weight of her words hangs between them, unspoken grief settling heavily in the air.

Elma steps in, attempting to lighten the mood. “Of all our chocobos, only this one made it.” She strokes the creature’s neck, fingers running over its singed feathers with quiet care.

Clasko scuffs a boot against the stone beneath him. “We make pretty poor Chocobo Mounted Forces without chocobos…” His voice is barely above a whisper, defeat evident in every syllable.

Lucil exhales sharply, her fist clenching at her side. “We turned our backs on the teachings and cast away our faith. This… this is our just reward.”

“Don’t say that.”

The group turns abruptly, startled by the voice—Wakka. He stands stiffly, his usual fire dampened, but his jaw tight with determination. He stares at the ground, brows furrowed deeply.

Lucil’s breath hitches, caught off guard. “I—”

“It’s… well…” Wakka struggles, searching for the right words, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

Before he can find them, I step in smoothly. “What he means to say,” Wakka startles, glancing up as I continue, “is don’t dishonor your dead by forgetting what they fought for. They didn’t die thinking of victories and rewards—they died hoping to put an end to it all. That’s what matters. That’s what should be remembered.”

Silence stretches between them. Wakka blinks, before his shoulders sag slightly—not in defeat, but in quiet understanding. A flush creeps up his face, but when he finally nods, it’s firm.

Lucil’s lips part, her eyes flicking between us before she straightens her spine, resolve settling into place. “I-I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s all so fresh. You’re right.” Her fingers tighten into a fist over her chest. “We won’t forget what they fought for. Even if, in the eyes of Yevon, we were wrong… they all fought for a chance at peace.”

Yuna offers one last bow before moving past, leading the way toward the temple. We bid our farewells to the Chocobo knights before continuing forward.

As we approach the temple, Tidus jogs ahead, squinting at the imposing structure in the distance. “Is that the Djose Temple?”

Before anyone can answer, a sudden pulse ripples through the air, thick with energy. The ground trembles beneath our feet as the very rock encasing the temple fractures, jagged cracks racing along its surface before the massive slabs splinter apart. Instead of crumbling, the broken stone rises, lifting into the air as though guided by invisible hands. The floating pieces hover, suspended in perfect alignment, orbiting the structure below.

Tendrils of lightning surge between the stones, crackling in brilliant arcs that illuminate the temple’s true form beneath. The entire structure hums with power, alive, resonating in response to the Fayth within.

We pause in collective awe, the raw force of the transformation leaving even the most seasoned among us momentarily breathless.

The blonde’s mouth drops in a gape, “woah… that was awesome!”

“The Lightning Mushroom Rock. It only opens when a summoner is addressing the Fayth,” Lulu explains, stepping beside Tidus.

I watch as arcs of electricity pulse through the levitating stones, a continuous charge keeping them suspended in the air. “So… a summoner’s already in there?”

“Looks like it,” Wakka mutters, eyes following the streaks of lightning crackling across the temple’s exterior.

Yuna tilts her head, concern flickering in her features. “Another summoner?”

Tidus folds his arms. “What if it’s Dona and that musclehead?”

The thought visibly startles Yuna, and she nods quickly. “We have to hurry.”

“Right! In we go!”

I shake my head in quiet amusement at Tidus’ boundless enthusiasm, but I match his pace as we cross the open stretch of land leading to the temple doors. The air hums with static, the charged atmosphere thick with energy.

But as we approach, a familiar figure stands just off to the right of the temple. The sight makes me slow my steps.

Luzzu.

The Crusader turns toward us numbly, his movements slow—detached. The dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes, the haunted look carved into his expression, say enough before he even speaks.

“Hey.”

Tidus falters, his steps slowing as his face drains of its usual energy. I catch the shift immediately—his shoulders tense, his eyes drop. I frown as he instinctively falls to the back of the group, as if retreating from something unseen.

Wakka, however, doesn’t hesitate. His anger from earlier—the betrayal of finding out Luzzu had encouraged Chappu to join the Crusaders—seems to have been washed away by something stronger.

Luzzu doesn’t wait. His voice is hollow, flat. “Gatta, he’s… he’s dead.”

The words drop like a stone, sinking into the silence between us.

“He was a good fighter. He just wasn’t lucky enough.”

The emptiness in his tone is worse than if he had broken down immediately.

The quiet stretches, pressing against all of us, a void too great to fill. And then, all at once, Luzzu shatters.

“Ah, damn it!”

He turns suddenly, his fist slamming into the temple wall with a sickening crack.

“He was young! He pushed his luck!” His voice breaks, raw and filled with a pain too vast for words. “What was he thinking—going up there in the front lines like that? He should’ve stayed back with command! Damn it! Damn it all!”

His rage spirals, his fists hammering against the stone with each bitter syllable, blood smearing against the rough surface. The sound of flesh meeting unyielding rock rings out in sharp echoes.

“Luzzu! Knock it off!” Wakka shouts, his voice laced with urgency.

But Luzzu doesn’t stop. His entire body shakes, frustration, grief, and regret pouring out of him in the only way he can let it. His bloodied knuckles strike the temple again, and Wakka moves without hesitation—grabbing the Crusader and yanking him away from the wall.

Luzzu thrashes in his grip, spinning abruptly and grabbing at the straps of Wakka’s suspenders, his fingers twisting into the fabric like a lifeline.

“Y-You don’t know what it’s like!” The words are sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

But Wakka doesn’t flinch.

“I… do… know.”

Each word lands with weight, each syllable measured and controlled—but beneath them, barely restrained fury smolders.

The fight leaves Luzzu all at once when his mind finally catches up. His hands drop, his body crumpling to the floor as sobs wrack his frame.

“I’m…I’m… sorry.”

Wakka doesn’t respond immediately, just sits cross-legged on the ground in front of him after a moment, staring hard at the man who once took his brother from him. His jaw is tight, his fists still clenched—but there’s something else there too. Understanding.

A silent agreement passes between the rest of us.

We step back, giving them space, leaving their words to melt into the wind, unheard.

—

As Wakka rejoins us, his steps are heavier as if burdened. Luzzu lingers behind, his face still drawn with grief, but there’s a steadiness in his eyes now, a focus that wasn’t there before. He meets Wakka’s gaze, nodding once—silent gratitude exchanged between them—before he turns and heads toward the inn.

Wakka exhales, rubbing the back of his head, his usual energy subdued. “He’s uh… I told him to rest up first, then to head back to Besaid.”

Yuna offers him a soft, understanding smile. “Thank you, Sir Wakka. For talking with him.”

He only nods at first, his throat bobbing as if he wants to say more but can’t quite find the words. Then, as if shaking off the weight pressing down on him, he straightens, rolling his shoulders back and forcing a familiar grin onto his face.

“Never mind all that, ya? Let’s get this started. We got stuff to do!”

It’s not the same blind enthusiasm he had before. There’s something stronger behind it now. The fire isn’t gone, just tempered. I watch him for a moment, a small smile tugging at my lips.

Wakka’s changed.

–

The inner sanctum of Djose Temple is both grand and claustrophobic, its architecture an intricate blend of ancient stonework and crackling energy. The walls are lined with glowing blue-green glyphs, their soft luminescence pulsating in rhythm with the temple’s latent power. The air itself is charged, thick with static, making every breath feel heavier, like standing in the eye of a brewing storm.

Unlike the open sanctuaries of Besaid and Kilika, Djose’s chamber feels contained, almost pressurized, as if the energy within is barely restrained. Two massive statues—Yunalesca and Lord Zaon—stand mounted on opposing pillars, watching over the sanctum with silent vigilance like the last two temples. Their carved forms are illuminated by two suspended orbs, crackling with tendrils of lightning that dance along their surfaces. These electric spheres frame the staircase leading to what must be the Cloister of Trials, their unstable flickering casting shifting shadows across the stone floor.

The heavy doors of the inner temple creak open.

Three figures emerge from the passageway leading to the Fayth, their presence framed by the dim glow of the sanctum. Three men—or rather, two men and a child—descend the steps with practiced ease.

The eldest among them stands at the center, clad in priestly robes of deep blue and gold, an ornate sash wrapped across his waist. His gentle yet composed expression exudes an effortless calm, the kind that comes from quiet conviction rather than arrogance.

To his right, a darker skinned, broad-shouldered man stands with arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning us with obvious scrutiny. His attire is far more practical—a mix of light armor and cloth, designed for mobility rather than ceremony.

The third is small, barely past childhood, his youthful energy restrained by his place in line. His short, dark hair sticks up slightly, and his wide eyes shine with admiration the moment he spots Yuna. There’s an almost infectious excitement in his stance, like he’s just moments away from bursting with words.

The eldest steps forward, his expression open with genuine curiosity.

“I beg your pardon, but may I ask your name?” His voice is warm, measured.

Yuna blinks before bowing deeply, her tone polite yet carrying the weight of her role. “I am Summoner Yuna, from the Isle of Besaid.”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “As I thought! The daughter of Lord Braska.” He regards her with a knowing look, his voice filled with admiration. “You have the look of your father.”

Yuna hesitates, visibly caught off guard. “My father…? You knew him?”

His smile doesn’t falter. “No, I have never had the honor of meeting him.” He bows lower in greeting. “Forgive me—I am Isaaru, a summoner, like yourself.”

Before Yuna can respond, the smallest of the three hops forward, his excitement barely contained. “I’m Pacce! Pleased to meet you!” His voice is bright, eager.

The more serious man beside them nods once. “And I’m Maroda. I’m guarding my big brother here.” His tone is dry, but not unfriendly.

Isaaru, unbothered by his brother’s lack of enthusiasm, clasps his hands together. “Since I was a child, I have always looked up to Lord Braska. I hoped that, one day, I would follow in his footsteps and become a High Summoner as well.” His gaze flickers across our group, his attention settling back on Yuna. “I believe you must have some of your father’s talent within you. Perhaps you may even be the one to defeat Sin.”

Yuna flushes at the earnest praise, her hands tightening around her staff. “I… I’m not really… I’ve only just become a summoner.”

Isaaru’s smile widens, almost playful. “Of course, I have no intention of losing, either. So, shall we race? Let us see who can defeat Sin first.”

Yuna blinks, momentarily stunned, before breaking into a genuine, determined smile. “Very well, then. I accept your challenge.”

Maroda huffs, shaking his head. “We don’t have time for your games, Isaaru.”

Isaaru startles at his brother’s voice, as if just now realizing that his brothers have been waiting for him. With an apologetic chuckle, he dips his head once more. “I beg your leave, Lady Yuna. Good luck—to both of us.”

Yuna bows respectfully, offering a warm smile as the three of them turn to depart.

“Please, I’d like to greet the priests before we enter the Cloister of Trials.” Yuna clasps her hands in front of her, glancing toward the temple’s inner chamber.

No one protests. Glancing at Auron, I half-expect him to argue, to insist we move on without unnecessary delays—but his expression remains unreadable. Instead, he simply exhales and wanders toward the towering statue of Braska.

The others disperse as well—Tidus lingers near Kimahri, their dynamic almost strangely comfortable now, while Lulu and Wakka quietly observe a row of statues off to the side. I don’t intrude. Instead, my eyes settle on Auron’s back as he stands before his old friend’s likeness, unmoving.

Slowly, I approach.

The massive stone figure of Braska looms above us, frozen in a moment of quiet grace. Auron’s single visible eye remains fixed on the statue, his stance rigid.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, rough—filled with something between reverence and quiet resentment.

“So… you’re a champion of Yevon now, Braska?”

He doesn’t turn to face me. His words aren’t directed at me, either.

I let the silence settle before speaking. “What was he like?”

Auron pauses, as if weighing how much to say. Finally, his lips curl into something almost like a smile—nostalgic, but touched with a bitter edge.

“Braska was too easily swayed by Jecht. It often led us to trouble.”

His chuckle is low, barely there, but it lingers long after the words have left him.

“And Jecht?”

“Loud.”

I chuckle, arms crossing over my chest as I glance at Auron. “Given that his son happens to be pacing a hole into the floor right over there, I’m not surprised.”

Tidus is muttering to himself as he stalks back and forth, kicking at stray pebbles. Kimahri, ever patient, watches him like a predator sizing up its prey. Just as the thought crosses my mind, the Ronso snatches Tidus up by the back of his shirt, lifting him with effortless ease.

“Wha—hey!” Tidus squawks, legs flailing as Kimahri unceremoniously sets him down a few inches to his right. The boy huffs, dusting himself off. “Coulda just asked, big guy.”

“Believe it or not, his father was worse.”

I snort before returning my attention to Auron. “Jecht was worse?”