Disclaimer: I do not own any of the names, places, characters, plot, etc. that follows; all I can lay claim to is the wording in some places.
Author's Note: First off, I would like to thank all of those who made this Revised Edition possible. Namely, my brother and editor - while you're a little slow at editing, your help was invaluable. Many thanks also to my former reviewers: Fiona Summoner, for being my "critique angel"; Lady Suneidesis, for sticking with me to the very end; LeonFan2k3, for making me not be so hard on Tidus; Mayonaka, for setting me straight on various parts of the romance; and all others who gave me tips and encouragement along the way.
Okay, so this is the Revised Edition of my novelisation of FFX. Took me long enough, didn't it? My novelisation's still not perfect even after all this revising; I know there are other authors out there who can write much better than I ever could. Still, I like having the satisfaction of finishing my first novelisation ever, and knowing I can do it. I don't really expect many of my old reviewers to remember this, or care to read it, but I'd be thrilled if you would. Especially you, Fiona. You would have no excuse if you didn't read this and review XD I've added some scenes, improved the battles (hopefully), and added an epilogue, so it's not exactly the same as last time. Also, I've shortened the chapters, so now there are more. Hopefully these changes make the Revised Edition better.
Please feel free to give any criticism you have; I probably won't revise this again (if I did, I'd be retired by the time I was satisfied!), but I appreciate any healthy criticism you can give me, that I might be a better author. If you want to diss this, go ahead, but I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me what it is you don't like. It's no fun for an author to not be able to understand what her readers don't like about the story. I'll reply to every review I get. Well, enjoy!
"Listen to me now. This may be my last chance."
Prologue
The wind hissed through the cracks in the rocks, fluttering the two red ribbons on the hilt of his sword. The sword stuck straight up out of the ground, like a pinnacle of power...yet...a very lonely pinnacle. A young man stood on a pile of rubble, the setting sun shining golden on his messy blond hair. Another sunset. This one was weak, as though shining through the nearly tangible film of rotten decay hanging in the air. The sun could not warm the chill that had settled into the young man's skin ever since he had arrived. He had longed for this day to come, yet the closer he came, the more he dreaded this moment. And now that it had arrived, he saw the truth staring back into his blue eyes. He closed these eyes, and felt the small, inadequate warmth fluttering against his eyelids.
He could remember other sunsets, some worth remembering, others as cold and heartless as this one. Each sunset marked the end of a day spent in toiling for his goal. This was the finish line, and he had reached it at last, fulfilling the promise he had made to himself. But what would be his crown of laurel leaves? Death? Loss? Or victory? "This is where it all began," he murmured softly to himself. "And this is where it'll all end."
He let out a sigh at his sad words, and looked over the land spread out beneath him. It was a city, though not as proud as it once had been. A city of rubble. A city overrun by foul creatures of every type and description. A city he had longed for, a city he once knew. A city that he no longer knew nor loved.
Chapter One: This Is Your Story
A city with flashing lights. A city built entirely of metal, where machines did most of the work. A city by the sea. Zanarkand, the perfect home for the blitzball champion of the Zanarkand Abes. Tonight was a special night for this champion, as this was the starting match of the Jecht Memorial Cup. The night to remember the famous Jecht, once the most renowned blitzball player around. A small crowd of excited fans thronged outside the house of the Abes' champion, waiting to see him off to the game. It seemed that was all they lived for; they were there hours before every single game, without fail. Giggly girls chattered happily about his good looks, while young boys boasted of their blitzball know-how, and everyone hopefully speculated whether they would see the legendary Jecht Shot tonight. Squeals from the girls closest to the house silenced the noisy crowd. Every eye turned to the door, every throat strained in a single cheer for their favorite player.
The champion strutted casually down the ramp connecting his house to the next platform, confident his hair was satisfyingly messy (that always seemed to please the girls). Three boys pushed to the front of the crowd, blitzballs clutched tightly under their arms. "Can you sign this?" One of the boys held up his ball, his face glowing with excitement at actually speaking to his hero.
"Sure thing." With a flourish, the champion signed Tidus on the ball with a pen he kept handy for unexpected signings such as this. For that matter, maybe it wasn't unexpected after all.
"Please?" begged another small boy.
"Alrighty." Tidus couldn't help but smile at the awed look the boy gave him when Tidus twirled the ball expertly on one finger and handed it back.
"Me too!" insisted the smallest of the group, not about to be left out of the fun.
"Take it easy," Tidus assured him with a little laugh. He'd be here at least until he had a word with those cute girls standing over there. When he swaggered over confidently, one girl looked absolutely terrified and hid behind her blitzball, unable to control the fit of giggles that overcame her. The other girl, however, was more daring, though she had a grating voice and didn't look half as good as the other.
"Can I have your autograph?" she asked. Tidus tried not to wince from her voice and managed a grin. As the other girl handed over her ball, she squeaked out, "Good luck tonight!"
"Nothing to worry about," he replied, giving her a wink. After signing both girls' balls, he had a brainwave.
"Hey, if I score a goal, I'll...um...do this." He did a thumbs-up. "That will mean it was for you, okay?"
Both girls dissolved into a mess of blushes and giggles.
"What seat?" he inquired.
"East block, in the front row!" answered the cute gigglers. "Fifth from the right!"
"Got it." Tidus winked at them and turned to the crowd at large. "Well, gotta go. Cheer for me!"
The boys stopped showing off their supposed skills, shouting in unison, "Teach us how to blitz!!!"
"Hey, I got a game to play," protested Tidus. "Maybe...tonight...um...well..."
A small child with a dark hood pulled over his face, who stood slightly apart from the other boys, said softly, "You can't tonight."
Tidus turned back to the others. Of course, the match would carry on far into the night, which would leave no time for much else. "I mean, tomorrow."
"Promise?" It seemed too good to be true.
"Promise!" Tidus smiled assuringly. Hey, he had nothing else to do tomorrow anyway. The next match wouldn't take place for a couple days. Besides, he didn't need to practice that much. The boys bowed, showing their gratitude.
Tidus managed to extricate himself from the crowd and get a breath of fresh air. Excitement pounded through him, just as it did before every match. The familiar throbbing sensation in his midriff intensified as he made his way along the walkway that spanned the entire distance of the city Zanarkand. But the throbbing ceased when he looked above him and found a picture of the hero Jecht, all lit up, towering above him. The familiar smirking man, with a straggle of brown hair held back by a red band of cloth, his brawny shoulders bare and his arms crossed over his chest. Tidus should have taken a different route to the stadium. He didn't like going this way if he could help it, the reason being the picture. Loathing built up inside him, as it always did whenever he thought about his old man. Tidus very much enjoyed life as the star player of the Zanarkand Abes: the fame, the fun, the girls, the cash. All that marred his perfect life was being the son of Jecht. At least his old man wasn't around to torment him anymore, but why did his memory have to linger that way?
Tidus tried to shake off these thoughts, putting all his concentration on the match ahead. He could deal with his memories some other time. His team, the Abes from A-East, were pitted against the Duggles from C-South. Tidus hoped to capture the crowd by showing his best moves, maybe even the Jecht Shot. There I go thinking about him again, he thought glumly.
A small commotion was building up at the entrance to the stadium. Tidus pushed through the cheering crowd, all wanting to give him a pat on the back or the shake of a hand. "Make way, make way!" he cried. But he didn't care too much, really. This was one of the main reasons he enjoyed being a blitzball player. "Coming through, sorry! Hey, I'm gonna be late! Let go of me!" Finally he broke through to the safety of the team entrance, where he turned back and waved at his adoring fans. This match would be packed.
Tidus pulled on his uniform, the butterflies in his stomach growing steadily worse. He pulled on his yellow short-sleeved shirt, with a white hood that was just for decoration. The shirt didn't meet in the middle or reach his waist as a normal one would; that was so he could feel the water swirling about him in the stadium and thus be drawn more fully into the game. While extremely comfortable, it showed off his muscles as well. Next he buckled on his black overall shorts, zipping on an extra length to his right leg, so that the red symbol of his family could be seen. It was the custom that the star player wear their symbol during a match. He loathed this daily reminder of his father, but it brought too much fame to do away with. Everyone could recognize his family's symbol. Jecht had gone so far as to get the thing tattooed over his entire chest. Idiot, Tidus thought savagely. His fingers trembled with rage as he buckled on his belt and arm guard; trying to control himself, he dropped the cold chain bearing his symbol over his neck and fixed a matching earring to his left ear. He jammed his black gloves onto his hands and hastily laced up his yellow waterproof shoes. Grabbing a blitzball from the rack, he hurried out to the stadium.
Meanwhile, not far from the stadium, Auron looked out over the city. Auron certainly stood out in a crowd, and not only because he was tall. His red cloak could be seen for miles against the other hues of the crowd, its style archaic and strange compared to the shiny, modern clothes most wore. Everyone who glanced at him knew he was of a different caliber than they; his stance spoke mutely of the calm grace he held within: the spirit of a warrior, the strength of a guardian. He held his left arm against his side, bent at the elbow, a silent symbol that his former master was now dead. His raven hair was greying, but that did not take away its beauty. If you managed to get up close to Auron, you would see the scar running down the right side of his face, running from the edge of his hair almost to his jaw, blinding his right eye. He wore black glasses to try to cover that up, but succeeded only in making his visage seem more intimidating and stern. His voice, the few times he spoke, was muffled slightly in his high collar, but somehow no one ever had trouble hearing his words. At his wide belt hung a tankard of ale; Auron was not a drinking man, but he kept it there for special occasions. Special occasions such as this.
Auron lifted his tankard with his free right hand, saluting something far off. He sighed sadly and put away his tankard, moving away to the heart of the city. He might as well wait outside the stadium. He could hear cries and laughter from within.
Auron stepped in a puddle, but the droplets he splashed did not return to the ground. Instead, they were sucked upward to the horror behind that was fast approaching. Even the buildings on the outskirts of the huge city leaned towards the monstrosity coming ever closer. The few remaining pedestrians who were not fortunate enough to gain tickets to the blitzball game now realized what was happening and rushed the other way, desperately – and futilely - trying to flee.
The star of the Abes sat in the water up to his waist, waiting for the match to start. The only sound apart from the beating of his heart was water swishing about him, caressing him, embracing him. He felt so calm in water, so detached from the real world. But suddenly light flooded the dark blitzball stadium, and sound roared from the mouths of thousands of fans. The roof opened up, revealing the starry sky above. Already the stadium was nearly full, and still more spectators came in droves - cheering, yelling, screaming - under the two statues that guarded the entrance to the stadium. Tidus stood up to a roar of cheering as the barrier for the water sparkled into place with a jolt of electric energy and filled with swirling, gushing water.
His other teammates hurried out into the stadium and followed him into the sphere. They scattered to their well-known places in the triangular blitzball starting formation, with Tidus at the point, of course. The ball shot into the sphere; Tidus and the Duggle captain swam with all their might towards it. Tidus lashed out with his foot and caught the Duggle smartly on the ribs. Smirking, he grabbed the ball.
He was racing towards the goal when a purple-clad Duggle caught him from behind. Tidus struggled and writhed like a snake, but in his struggling he dropped the ball and everyone nearby raced to get it. Tidus, squirming out of the Duggle's grip, reached it first and launched it to a teammate with all the strength he could muster. The teammate caught it, only to be kicked hard in the back by a Duggle and have the ball wrested from him. Tidus was there in an instant. He threw the player with such force that she flew from the water contained in the sphere, landing in the crowd, who hastily shoved her back in. The crowd screamed its delight, unaware that something odd was occurring directly outside.
The blitzball rocketed upwards through the water until it broke the barrier that kept the water in. Tidus kicked hard, propelling himself with enough force that he soared through the air at the same speed as the ball. All time seemed suspended. The cries and cheers from the crowd seemed miles away, and of little importance. This was what he was born to do. Night air licked its cold tongues on Tidus' wet skin as he twisted around in midair, ready to top off the show with the most famous move of all: the Jecht Shot. His mind, however, was blissfully free of any thoughts of his father as he flipped upside down for the move. Slowly, as he began to twirl, his mind registered the upside-down forms of Zanarkand buildings.
Tidus gasped in surprise. A great ball of water floated above the sea. Through the thick case of water, he could see the body of a gigantic monster, hundreds of tiny eyes twitching and rolling about, surveying the entire city.
It all happened before anyone could think. One moment, the game was at its peak. The next, pulses of energy erupted from the ball of water and explosions ripped the stadium, separated the crowd, and caused great frenzy among the spectators. The age-old statues splintered into a million infinitesimal shards. Screams and cries of pain were drowned by yet more explosions. And suddenly he was in the middle of it, grasping an overhead rail with all his might, grabbing and clutching, but his wet gloves slid steadily downward, threatening to slip off entirely. Another explosion rocked the stadium, knocking Tidus completely off. Letting out a despairing yell, he fell down, down, down. His head hit stone and he knew no more.
Tidus picked himself up slowly from the ground, his entire body throbbing. He had been aware of all the screams and running feet for several minutes now, but had been totally unable to respond until now. Realizing that a pile of rubble had broken his fall - and probably saved his life - he broke into a run, following the general flow of the crowd fleeing the stadium. He wondered vaguely where anyone could be safe from this horror. That thought was quickly forgotten by the sight of a single, solitary figure standing apart from the mad rush of people, completely calm amidst all this confusion.
"Auron, what are you doing here?"
"I was waiting for you," came the calm, low voiced reply, strange as always.
"What are you talking about?"
Auron strode off without answering, leaving Tidus with nothing to do but try to keep up with him. When he reached the main street, he looked one way, then another. Auron was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly a blinding white flash nearly blinded him, and he blinked furiously, his eyes watering. The flash was soon gone, but no one moved. Indeed, it seemed that time was frozen and only Tidus was mobile. A small boy wearing a dark hood stood before him and seemed as unaffected by the time freeze as Tidus. He said simply, "It begins." Tidus recognized the child as the one who had pointed out he could not teach the boys blitzball tonight. What was he doing here?
"Don't cry," the boy went on. Tidus stepped up menacingly, clenching his fists. He never cried! Yet in the blink of an eye, the boy had gone and time had resumed its usual pace.
"What the...?" stammered Tidus. Suddenly he saw Auron amongst the crowd of people running away from the large ball of water. But he was facing the opposite direction, towards the great menace! "Hey! Wait!" Tidus called, running over. "Hey! Not this way!" Panting, confused, he simply wanted to go home, to hide under his covers and abandon the rest of the world.
"Look," Auron demanded, cutting through his thoughts.
Tidus did, and saw the ball of water he had seen earlier suspended in the sky. Inside it, he knew, lurked the monster that had turned the entire city into a chaotic frenzy.
"We called it Sin," Auron remarked.
"Sin?" Tidus wondered privately who 'we' were supposed to be.
Auron only looked at him.
A distant crash diverted Tidus' attention to a tower some way off. What looked like a gigantic tentacle, entirely covered by crusty barnacle-like things, had landed there. Most likely dropped by that monster within the huge mass of water, the thing Auron called Sin. With a shake, the tentacle shook off the barnacle things as if they were irritating flies, and they hurtled away in all directions. A few of them landed directly in front of Tidus, their crusty shells opening out to release strange bird-like monsters, with the crusty shells as their wings. Like crazed insects, they advanced on Tidus. He had no weapon, no means of defense. So he did the only thing anyone in that sort of situation can do - he used his hands in an attempt to ward them away the best he could, finally falling backwards at Auron's feet and feeling distinctly foolish.
A sword appeared in his line of vision, a red blade held by Auron's gloved hand. "Take it."
Tidus grabbed the hilt, and Auron pulled him to his feet. The weight was strange in his hand, unusual and somehow frightening.
Auron watched the boy's strange expression. "A gift from Jecht."
"My old man?" Tidus received no confirmation. The thought of Jecht filled him with hate. He turned to the strange creatures and swatted at them, venting his rage. But the creatures only jumped away and Tidus overbalanced once more, falling to the ground. He jumped to his feet, ready to try again.
"I hope you know how to use it," Auron snorted. Something in this sarcastic statement caused the blood pounding through Tidus' head to slow. Of course he knew! How hard could it be? He nodded, watching Auron pull out a sword of his own. This sword was much longer, wider, and heavier, more suited to Auron's firm grip and strong arms. "These ones don't matter," Auron said quickly. "We cut through!"
Following Auron's directions, Tidus slashed downward at the middlemost creature. He was surprised at how swiftly he could dispatch it, and how strong his arms really were. Who would have thought that a blitzball player could become a warrior? But Auron was already racing through the gap he had made, and a glance over one shoulder told him that many more creatures were falling behind them. There was only one direction to run: forward.
A sinister enemy awaited them just around the bend. The tentacle had somehow managed to move itself down here, to block their way. They were trapped.
"Get outta my town!" yelled Tidus. Not that he expected the tentacle to listen...
"Some can't wait to die!" Auron put in his own threat, sounding much more dangerous than Tidus.
Tidus charged forward with a yell, drowning out the softly uttered warning coming from Auron's lips. He angled his red sword at the tentacle's large bulk, and it connected sharply with thick flesh. The end of the tentacle whipped around, caught Tidus under his attacking arm, and threw him back. Tidus fell to the ground, his breath rushing out of his lungs in a quick gush. Everything swirled about in his gaze, the spinning sky blending with the swaying tentacle. He shook his head to clear it, and when he looked up again, saw the edge of Auron's cloak right by his face.
"You will not touch him," Auron growled at the tentacle as it soared towards him from the other side. Letting out a cry, Auron swung his huge sword and cleaved the tentacle in two. It squealed, though no mouth could be seen, and Auron plunged his sword up to the hilt in the remaining stump of tentacle. With that, he extended a hand and pulled Tidus calmly to his feet, as though strange monsters and near-death encounters were daily routine.
Tidus glanced over at the limp tentacle and did a double-take. Strange wispy lights trailed from the corpse and faded into the night. Tidus watched them, as if in a trance. They were beautiful, but somehow terror-invoking at the same time. He had seen them before, a long time ago. It wasn't the pleasantest of memories; who would want to watch their mother die? She had lain there, her face pale and worn, gasping for breath, and suddenly it was over. The breath stopped, her heartbeat thumped to nothing, and her eyes, wide open, would never see the room again. Then the wisps flew up from her, soaring up to the ceiling and disappearing. And with them went her life.
He hurried away after Auron, hoping he wouldn't ever have to see those wispy lights again. They were running down the very street he had used to reach the stadium earlier that day. The illuminated picture of his father flashed and sputtered above them as the lights within short-circuited. "What are you laughing at?" Tidus called contemptuously up to it. Turning to Auron, he cried, "Auron, let's get out of here! We should be running away from it!"
But Auron wasn't watching him. He was staring into the distance over a small rise in the walkway. "We're expected," Auron replied. "We should welcome it." So saying, he set off at a run once more.
"Gimme a break, man!" Why did Auron have to keep darting all over the place?
He soon discovered what Auron meant, though. Dozens and dozens of the crusty bird things surrounded them where they stood. "Hmph," Auron grunted. "This could be bad." He cast his gaze around until it lighted upon a piece of old machinery hanging over the edge of the walkway, held suspended only by a single link of power. "That." Triumph laced his words. "Knock it down."
"What?!"
"Trust me. You'll see."
Tidus glanced at him uncertainly. Auron seemed so convinced that this would work, and Auron was so calm and quiet that you had to believe just about anything he said. So Tidus ran up to the machinery and brought his sword down on the link that held it there. A shock ran up his arm, sending pain into his shoulder, but at a glance from Auron, he kept at it. Auron faced the advancing bird things with a grim smile, brandishing his sword. Squeals, cries, and grunts from behind Tidus told him that the battle was not faring too well. Dead bodies littered the ground at Auron's feet, but still they pressed on towards the one man that stood before them. Just the man with the deadly sword, and then they could leap upon the tender one.
Sweat poured down Tidus' brow. His shoulder ached, and he had no idea whether the machinery was inching apart, or whether it was simply his tired imagination. A sputter ran through the link. Yes, it definitely was breaking! The shocks didn't seem so painful anymore. But his arm was not used to hacking away incessantly. Time to end this. Tidus lifted the red sword above his head with both hands, and brought it crashing down upon the last small link. The machinery tumbled down, sputtering with sparks and catching on fire. An explosion ripped through the night air, white-hot sound ripping through his ears. The hundreds of creatures were swept away in the licking flames, but the walkway was breaking apart, and Tidus could smell death in the air.
"Go." The two of them raced along, side by side, the fire licking their heels but not burning them. With a mighty leap, Tidus grabbed onto the lip of some platform above him. The entire walkway fell down behind. Somehow, Auron had reached this platform before him. He stood there, but did not help Tidus at all.
"Auron! Auron!" Tidus yelled at the top of his lungs. Why wouldn't Auron help him?
But Auron was talking to something above them. With a jolt, Tidus realized it was Sin, hovering above them, sucking the entire city of Zanarkand into itself like a vast vacuum cleaner. And Auron was talking to this monster? "You are sure?" he was saying.
Tidus used the last ounce of energy he had to pull himself up onto the platform. Auron reached down and grabbed Tidus by his collar. Tidus floated upwards in the air; Sin was pulling him in. He struggled. What was Auron thinking?
"This is it," the unfathomable man said. "This is your story. It all begins here."
No! Tidus thought despairingly. Auron can't have betrayed me! He could feel Sin pull him in, sucking him in as if he were a drink that Sin was sipping through a straw. He was yelling, but no one heard him. All became dark.