Anamnesis

n. the recollection or remembrance of the past; reminiscence.

Zanarkand was everything is had been made-up to be and more. Everything from the lights on top of the blitz stadium to the depths of the ocean seemed to shimmer. But it was a gilded place, beneath the glitz and glam lay a coat of grime for the former guardian. He couldn't float by as the rest of society, he felt heavy in comparison. He was an outsider amongst their perfect world, and he knew it. His promises weighed him down.

She was dying. He could tell, her son could tell, the neighbors knew; it was just a waiting game. There was little anyone could do. Even her blue-eyed son could no longer draw her out of her shell. In confusion those blue-eyes would turn to him and ask, in all a child's innocence, why?

He wasn't use to children. As a former monk his only contact with them had been brief. He wasn't one to play games, or give hugs, he was happier to stand in the shadows and guard. Through his silent watch he marveled at the child's ability to pretend nothing was wrong, to repress and make believe. He wondered, briefly, if Yuna would do the same before being called out of his reverie by a cheerful 'Uncle Auron, watch!' Some trick or another would be performed (he could never remember which, the boy did so many) with a beloved blitzball and the boy would look to his guardian for a nod of approval. The little boy used the sport as a shield to forget.

She had taken his blitzball, once. It reminded her too much of her husband, just as her little boy did, but she couldn't get rid of him. Upon their silent guardians arrival the customary blond head that was always in constant motion sat at the edge of the illustrious house-boat bent and hiding tears.

After that the little boy spent his time with the elderly woman next door. She offered him the hugs and kisses he had never received. The affection he wanted and the simple answers he liked to hear. And most importantly he could play all the blitz he wanted. The scarred man was content to leave the boy under her watchful eye. She had grandchildren his age, he would be safer there than with his mother. The guardian continued his vigil though, returning everyday to watch the desecration and crumbling of a small world, grasping for ways to hold it together for the young boy.

His mother barely noticed his absence. Too lost in her suffering and her mourning, the only change she noticed was the lack of nonsensical questions children often ask. It came as a relief. She died two days before his eighth birthday. An eighth birthday he spent dressed in a stuffy suit that itched, cheeks that hurt from being pinched, eyes that blurred from the flashes of the camera's and a heart that ached to be hugged and told everything would be alright. And within his childish mind that was all okay what hurt more than anything was that he hadn't even gotten one gift.

Twelve

There was a middle school blitz league. Auron had been skeptical to let him join. He didn't hold the normal reservations of a guardian or parent. There was no worry about whether his charge would do well or fit in. No, Tidus would be good. The boy only lived, ate, and breathed blitz. It was the whispers that would appear every time the boy jumped into the sphere pool, the scathing looks he would receive from those who would be jealous, the fame that would re-invent itself around the son of Jecht. The return of the shadow the boy has worked so hard to be rid of.

But like all children, Tidus has persevered with classic whinnying and puppy-dog eyes and gotten his wish to play. The papers were signed and Auron's predictions came true. Tidus was the envy of the team, embraced the fame and stubbornly asserted that he was a blitzer separate from his father; vowing that he would be better. The boy had more of Jecht in him than he would have liked to admit.

Though the fame never went to his head, the boy still retained the arrogance natural to those born with a silver spoon in their mouth. He flourished under the pressure of a big game, and celebrated even larger in his own twelve-year-old way. And while Tidus danced along with the pulled strings, and basked in the glory of the compliments Auron kept in mind the dirt below the shimmer.

The sharks were already starting to move in. Magazines called wanting interviews, trying to rip open old wounds that still stung. The ears of every recruiter within the whole of the city perked to attention when Jecht's carefully guarded son stepped into the limelight.

By the end of the year the boy was endorsing blitz gear on the sphere and slowly getting over his fear of cooties. Girls had always been uncharted territory unless they were among the ranks of the cafeteria ladies. For Tidus, this foray was only natural, purely mimicking, his father had always hung out with his female fans. And although the boy was loathe to admit doing anything similar to his father, the more girls he hung out with the more they talked and the more they talked the more popular he became.

Lynnea was on the cheerleading team. Auron would always remember her well, so would Tidus. She liked to smile demurely and make eyes to the cameras that filmed the junior tournament. She liked Tidus for his fame. He liked her because she always smelled good and would share her candy necklaces.

She kissed him after they had won. Standing on the center stage she had turned and smooched; shocking the mini-star blitzer, giving herself fifteen minutes of fame and trumping the tournaments publicity. The picture on the local paper the next day wasn't of their victory, it was a shameless stealing of a first kiss emblazoned on the front page.

Fifteen

Fifteen seemed to be the age where Tidus finally broke loose from Auron's odd version of parenting. The stand-and-look-intimidating tactic that had worked so long was crippled when faced with teenage rebellion. Blitz after school until nine, games on Friday's, and parties all weekend kept Tidus away from home as much as possible. He was the big man on campus, swimming straight to the top of the high school blitz team. It was only a matter of time before the vulture recruiters stopped asking Auron to sign and went straight for the star himself.

It came as a shock to the guardian as he sat in a worn recliner. Flashing across the screen was Tidus' face. The team name didn't matter, neither did the salary. It was the crashing realization that his promise to protect and guard was cracking. Tidus' was a smart kid; Auron knew he would never mix himself up with drugs, but the boy was blind when it came to blitz. He strove to be better than his father and he was going to stop at nothing until the name Jecht was forgotten.

Harsh arguments and cutting insults ensued resulting in Tidus' emancipation. Auron was never far, but his charge never knew that the older man bribed the bartenders to water-down the drinks, or paid the bail when he needed it. Through a string of drunken nights, pretty girls and smiling faces Tidus began his climb to the top, a full year ahead of his father.

He fancied himself a charmer. There was only so much charming a young, rich and famous blitzball player had to do to hang out with a few girls. But the magazines painted a wonderful picture of the boy. He had the baby-face, athletic body and sunny smile to sell covers and always seemed to have time for his fans.

His teammates seem to like him, too. The older men said he was the best they'd ever seen and were glad to play with him. They smiled for the cameras, their smiles only skin deep.

When the star was questioned about it, the loss of his high school education, he said, never bothered him. He always knew his career was in the sphere pool, not out in the corporate world of Zanarkand. He could finally chase his dream. Live the life his father has set out for him but never follow in his footsteps. No, Tidus made his own way, walked his own path and made sure everyone knew it.

Sixteen

He was up for the MVP this year. He was a sure win. The Abes were undefeatable with him as one of their wingmen. He was pulling tricks no one has seen since his father had blitzed and he was making headlines like no other. He seemed unstoppable.

Until he had screwed it all up. A split second to think about the girl in the third row and he was flying out of the pool. There had been a crack of pain and his world went black. He woke up eight hours later with a cast on his arm and bandages around his torso. His moment of panic was eased when the doctor explained that he had broken his entire left arm and some ribs. He was benched for the rest of the season. His coach told him to be thankful he hadn't punctured a lung or blown out his knee.

The local news stations played his accident more than often than he cared for. Admirers sent flowers that filled his home with a floral scent that was more reminiscent of a funeral than the good tidings the represented. He was restless.

It had been the day after the Jecht Memorial Cup that Auron stopped by for a visit. Kind words turned to biting comments as they always did, leaving Tidus questioning himself. Two days later a drunk boy lay slumped outside of apartment 4D. Once a guardian, always a guardian, Auron would always be there and on some level Tidus knew that. After he had sobered, apologies were exchanged and the two returned to stable ground.

In his off time Tidus still couldn't tear his eyes away from blitz. If he wasn't watching a game he was sneaking down to the community center to coach younger kids. Sneaking has been his word, or course, by his third visit the local news station van was staked out in front of the building.

By the end of the year Tidus was admitted back to the team with instructions to use and arm brace. Auron actually chuckled when Tidus stubbornly refused to wear the contraption. He let out an all out laugh when the kid hired a designer to make one match better. One thing was certain though. Tidus was going to back next season and he was determined to make it his best.

Seventeen

His entire world changed.

A promise was kept.

And, everything he had thought was so important

Didn't matter anymore,

Her life did.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the fabrications of my own mind...Square owns the rest.

AN: A little something that popped into my head, courtesy of Hemingway. I gotta admit delving into Tidus' character was a lot harder than I originally thought; this was a bit of an experiment. Originally I was just going to focus on Auron but there's so little information about our favorite guardian Tidus just took over.

R&R

I love constructive criticism!

AngelPaw