The Man In The Middle
Final Fantasy X and all its characters are the property of Squaresoft. I make no claim to own them in any way, shape, or form.
I am always looking to improve my writing skills, so constructive criticism and insightful comments are more than welcome.
Author's Note: I always felt that the end of Final Fantasy X cheated Auron a little bit. Everyone started giving Tidus all this credit for finding a way to save Yuna and for defeating Sin. Then a lot of focus is spent on Tidus' sacrifice and his death, but none really on Auron. I have always felt that without Auron, Tidus would have failed. Auron's motivations throughout the game, cryptic as they may be, have always seemed to point in the direction that he is subtly guiding Tidus and Yuna towards an alternate ending, one that breaks the endless cycle of death that he holds so much disdain for. However, he also realizes that this is not his story, but Tidus' and Yuna's, as his story ended when he failed to change the world ten years ago. So he does not directly interfere, instead leaving it for Tidus and Yuna to decide for themselves. He just helps provide the alternatives, especially when the memories of his tragic past involving Braska's death and Jecht's sacrifice surface. Had Auron not told Tidus that Jecht was Sin, then Tidus would never have thought to find a different way because he wouldn't have realized that the guardian who becomes the Final Aeon also becomes the next Sin. And yet for all Auron does for them, Tidus especially, having been a father figure even in death for the last ten years, he gets no appreciation. Not even a thank you or a subtle nod at the end. Nothing. And I found that disappointing, and perhaps somewhat selfish on Tidus' part. So I wrote this to make Tidus look better and give Auron the respect he deserves.
*****
You walked by, silent, almost wordless, not one for long goodbyes. Your face did not betray what you were feeling inside. Your one good eye and your jaw line were held in the same fierce dedication you always wore. But I have come to understand the subtleties in your features, the meanings behind your body language. After ten years, you'd think I would have learned sooner. You were tired, weren't you? Tired of remaining amongst the living, wishing for a release from your pain.
You knew this day would come, and you were glad to be leaving. Glad to be leaving this world in the hands of the most capable, of those you were most proud of. But you were still sad to leave. I could see that as well. Because it's always hard to leave behind those you've become attached to, there's always something that you'll miss; just as you will be missed by us. I'm starting to see that clearly now myself, knowing I am not long for this existence either.
But you know your time has come. You know that you've fulfilled your promises and done everything in your power to provide the best possible ending to this story as you could. And you did an admirable job. You did what you set out to do. You can leave this plane of reality with peace of mind.
And with you goes all of your cryptic ways, your frustrating laugh at jokes only you seem to be in on. With you goes all your sarcastic comments and rough treatment of me, for the ways you kept me floundering around in the dark.
I had spent so many years frustrated with you, annoyed by your distance and aloofness, irritated with your cryptic answers and half-truths, resentful of the way you reproached me openly and without sugar-coating every time I made a mistake. I was rebellious about the way you pushed me in directions I had not necessarily wanted to go, how you left me with little choice in many matters. It was your fault I was here in the first place, after all.
I hated you for telling me that my father was Sin, that my old man was the creature that killed without mercy, destroyed towns on a whim; that my father was the man who forced Yuna to perform those hauntingly beautiful dances, that forced her to feel the need to cash in her life for that of my old man's. I was infuriated with you for telling me the truth about my father, but not telling me that Yuna would die when she defeated Sin.
I had hated you for all of that; for all that you put me through. And for all that, the only thing I wanted to say to you was "thank you." Thank you, Auron, for making me the man I am today. For always being there, for always treating me like an adult, even when I acted like a child. Thank you for guiding me so well. I hated it then, but it is only at this moment that I realize that it was all worth it. You were a father to me, when I needed one most.
You weren't the greatest father in the world. But in all fairness, you never asked to be a father. I wasn't a choice for you, I was something your honor forced you to watch over, something even death couldn't prevent you from doing. I can imagine that it would have been easy for you to resent me for that fact. But you didn't. You never resented me; you never gave up on me when others most certainly would have.
Besides, you were always a better father to me than my own was. You never cut me down or berated me for my failures, you simply made sure I held myself accountable for them. Sure, I thought that you were just as bad as my old man back then, given your lack of ability to soften the blow or the sting of the truth. But you were right; you didn't try to disguise the truth with soothing lies to make me feel better. You made me understand what I had done wrong, forcing me to learn from my mistakes.
But I certainly could not have been the easiest child to raise. I know that now, perhaps I always did. But in my anger at the world, I didn't care. I didn't want to make it easy for you. And for that I'm sorry.
I had resented you for the longest time. Then for a brief time, I pitied you when I discovered the truth, your painful past and your death. But I don't pity you anymore. I don't hate you anymore, or resent you. Though you'd probably kill me should I say it to your face, I love you; love you for being my father figure, for taking care of me. Just as I know you love me; that you're proud of what I've become, though you certainly would never openly admit it. And you don't have to. Because I can see it, written plain as day on your face. It's always been there, even when you were disappointed in my behavior; I just was never able to read it before now.
You were always so distant. But I understand why now, I have seen the open wounds that lie hidden beneath the surface, the wounds that kept you at an arm's length from the rest of the world because they didn't need any more company. But also because you knew you were only here on borrowed time; that eventually you would have to give in to your lifeless body's need for rest and peace.
But you were more than just distant. I can see that now. You were strong, strong in the face of tragedy, strong in the face of sorrowful partings with those you have come to respect and care for. Because you know it is inevitable that you will leave, that crying or delaying it would serve no greater purpose and make no one feel better about it, make it that much harder to accept. You accept, and you acknowledge all of us in your own subtle way.
I probably will cry when it is my turn to leave. I do not think I am as strong as you in my resolve. But I have not had ten years to prepare for it like you have, so I know you'll cut me some slack there. But maybe, just maybe, I could say goodbye to the people I have come to love with as much strength and grace as you did. To say goodbye to the one I love more than life itself without breaking down. I can only hope, but I will try. For you. For them. For her.
I have learned much from you. You had been willing to sacrifice yourself for those you loved, had sacrificed yourself for them. You wouldn't even let something like death stop you from keeping your word, from fulfilling the promises you made. You spent ten years watching over Yuna and me, protecting us, for the ones you loved, denying yourself the luxuries of the Farplane that you deserved. You remained here long enough to give my old man, one of your closest friends, that same release that he too deserved.
Your example was what made me realize that next to love, death is a trivial thing. That is why I was willing to sacrifice my existence for Yuna's, why I will be joining you in the Farplane soon. So that she wouldn't have to.
But I couldn't have done all of this without you. None of us could have. Without your influence, we never would have found a way to save Yuna, to free Spira from Sin for all eternity. You were the one that made me believe there was another way, your none-too-subtle guidance and the memories of your painful past my inspiration. You could have changed the world back then, like you wanted to, but you didn't know what questions to ask. No one from Spira could have known what questions to ask. But as an outsider, I knew, mostly because you had provided me with the questions I needed to ask, because I had a guide with wisdom and experience like you, whereas you did not.
I wish I could tell you all of this. To tell you everything you meant to us, everything you meant to me, and how grateful I am to have known you.
But I know I don't have to. You had always been a man that understood that words weren't always necessary, that actions and gestures spoke so much louder than words ever could. You already knew how I felt. You had probably always known, even when I hadn't.
And in that moment when you vanished in a swarm of pyreflies, I felt happy to know that soon I would probably see you again on the other side.
~ End ~
Final Fantasy X and all its characters are the property of Squaresoft. I make no claim to own them in any way, shape, or form.
I am always looking to improve my writing skills, so constructive criticism and insightful comments are more than welcome.
Author's Note: I always felt that the end of Final Fantasy X cheated Auron a little bit. Everyone started giving Tidus all this credit for finding a way to save Yuna and for defeating Sin. Then a lot of focus is spent on Tidus' sacrifice and his death, but none really on Auron. I have always felt that without Auron, Tidus would have failed. Auron's motivations throughout the game, cryptic as they may be, have always seemed to point in the direction that he is subtly guiding Tidus and Yuna towards an alternate ending, one that breaks the endless cycle of death that he holds so much disdain for. However, he also realizes that this is not his story, but Tidus' and Yuna's, as his story ended when he failed to change the world ten years ago. So he does not directly interfere, instead leaving it for Tidus and Yuna to decide for themselves. He just helps provide the alternatives, especially when the memories of his tragic past involving Braska's death and Jecht's sacrifice surface. Had Auron not told Tidus that Jecht was Sin, then Tidus would never have thought to find a different way because he wouldn't have realized that the guardian who becomes the Final Aeon also becomes the next Sin. And yet for all Auron does for them, Tidus especially, having been a father figure even in death for the last ten years, he gets no appreciation. Not even a thank you or a subtle nod at the end. Nothing. And I found that disappointing, and perhaps somewhat selfish on Tidus' part. So I wrote this to make Tidus look better and give Auron the respect he deserves.
*****
You walked by, silent, almost wordless, not one for long goodbyes. Your face did not betray what you were feeling inside. Your one good eye and your jaw line were held in the same fierce dedication you always wore. But I have come to understand the subtleties in your features, the meanings behind your body language. After ten years, you'd think I would have learned sooner. You were tired, weren't you? Tired of remaining amongst the living, wishing for a release from your pain.
You knew this day would come, and you were glad to be leaving. Glad to be leaving this world in the hands of the most capable, of those you were most proud of. But you were still sad to leave. I could see that as well. Because it's always hard to leave behind those you've become attached to, there's always something that you'll miss; just as you will be missed by us. I'm starting to see that clearly now myself, knowing I am not long for this existence either.
But you know your time has come. You know that you've fulfilled your promises and done everything in your power to provide the best possible ending to this story as you could. And you did an admirable job. You did what you set out to do. You can leave this plane of reality with peace of mind.
And with you goes all of your cryptic ways, your frustrating laugh at jokes only you seem to be in on. With you goes all your sarcastic comments and rough treatment of me, for the ways you kept me floundering around in the dark.
I had spent so many years frustrated with you, annoyed by your distance and aloofness, irritated with your cryptic answers and half-truths, resentful of the way you reproached me openly and without sugar-coating every time I made a mistake. I was rebellious about the way you pushed me in directions I had not necessarily wanted to go, how you left me with little choice in many matters. It was your fault I was here in the first place, after all.
I hated you for telling me that my father was Sin, that my old man was the creature that killed without mercy, destroyed towns on a whim; that my father was the man who forced Yuna to perform those hauntingly beautiful dances, that forced her to feel the need to cash in her life for that of my old man's. I was infuriated with you for telling me the truth about my father, but not telling me that Yuna would die when she defeated Sin.
I had hated you for all of that; for all that you put me through. And for all that, the only thing I wanted to say to you was "thank you." Thank you, Auron, for making me the man I am today. For always being there, for always treating me like an adult, even when I acted like a child. Thank you for guiding me so well. I hated it then, but it is only at this moment that I realize that it was all worth it. You were a father to me, when I needed one most.
You weren't the greatest father in the world. But in all fairness, you never asked to be a father. I wasn't a choice for you, I was something your honor forced you to watch over, something even death couldn't prevent you from doing. I can imagine that it would have been easy for you to resent me for that fact. But you didn't. You never resented me; you never gave up on me when others most certainly would have.
Besides, you were always a better father to me than my own was. You never cut me down or berated me for my failures, you simply made sure I held myself accountable for them. Sure, I thought that you were just as bad as my old man back then, given your lack of ability to soften the blow or the sting of the truth. But you were right; you didn't try to disguise the truth with soothing lies to make me feel better. You made me understand what I had done wrong, forcing me to learn from my mistakes.
But I certainly could not have been the easiest child to raise. I know that now, perhaps I always did. But in my anger at the world, I didn't care. I didn't want to make it easy for you. And for that I'm sorry.
I had resented you for the longest time. Then for a brief time, I pitied you when I discovered the truth, your painful past and your death. But I don't pity you anymore. I don't hate you anymore, or resent you. Though you'd probably kill me should I say it to your face, I love you; love you for being my father figure, for taking care of me. Just as I know you love me; that you're proud of what I've become, though you certainly would never openly admit it. And you don't have to. Because I can see it, written plain as day on your face. It's always been there, even when you were disappointed in my behavior; I just was never able to read it before now.
You were always so distant. But I understand why now, I have seen the open wounds that lie hidden beneath the surface, the wounds that kept you at an arm's length from the rest of the world because they didn't need any more company. But also because you knew you were only here on borrowed time; that eventually you would have to give in to your lifeless body's need for rest and peace.
But you were more than just distant. I can see that now. You were strong, strong in the face of tragedy, strong in the face of sorrowful partings with those you have come to respect and care for. Because you know it is inevitable that you will leave, that crying or delaying it would serve no greater purpose and make no one feel better about it, make it that much harder to accept. You accept, and you acknowledge all of us in your own subtle way.
I probably will cry when it is my turn to leave. I do not think I am as strong as you in my resolve. But I have not had ten years to prepare for it like you have, so I know you'll cut me some slack there. But maybe, just maybe, I could say goodbye to the people I have come to love with as much strength and grace as you did. To say goodbye to the one I love more than life itself without breaking down. I can only hope, but I will try. For you. For them. For her.
I have learned much from you. You had been willing to sacrifice yourself for those you loved, had sacrificed yourself for them. You wouldn't even let something like death stop you from keeping your word, from fulfilling the promises you made. You spent ten years watching over Yuna and me, protecting us, for the ones you loved, denying yourself the luxuries of the Farplane that you deserved. You remained here long enough to give my old man, one of your closest friends, that same release that he too deserved.
Your example was what made me realize that next to love, death is a trivial thing. That is why I was willing to sacrifice my existence for Yuna's, why I will be joining you in the Farplane soon. So that she wouldn't have to.
But I couldn't have done all of this without you. None of us could have. Without your influence, we never would have found a way to save Yuna, to free Spira from Sin for all eternity. You were the one that made me believe there was another way, your none-too-subtle guidance and the memories of your painful past my inspiration. You could have changed the world back then, like you wanted to, but you didn't know what questions to ask. No one from Spira could have known what questions to ask. But as an outsider, I knew, mostly because you had provided me with the questions I needed to ask, because I had a guide with wisdom and experience like you, whereas you did not.
I wish I could tell you all of this. To tell you everything you meant to us, everything you meant to me, and how grateful I am to have known you.
But I know I don't have to. You had always been a man that understood that words weren't always necessary, that actions and gestures spoke so much louder than words ever could. You already knew how I felt. You had probably always known, even when I hadn't.
And in that moment when you vanished in a swarm of pyreflies, I felt happy to know that soon I would probably see you again on the other side.
~ End ~