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FFX-2.5: Eternity’s Price

• Chapter One
• Chapter Two
• Chapter Three
• Chapter Four
• Chapter Five
• Chapter Six
• Chapter Seven
• Chapter Eight
• Chapter Nine
• Chapter Ten
• Chapter Eleven

Chapter One

Curled into a ball, Tidus drifted in darkness. Images were taking shape in his mind; were they real or just memories? He couldn’t tell. He could make out a broad-shouldered man with a mane of unruly hair and a frail-looking woman pressed against him: Tidus’ parents. One day, his father had disappeared, and eventually his mother had died of grief. Tidus had been so upset when he realised that he would never manage to console her – that just having her son around wasn’t enough. The same sadness as before suddenly swelled in his chest.

But a moment later, he was facing down an enormous crowd. They were cheering his name, and he was smiling back in delight. Strangely, the grief had suddenly left him – how was such a thing possible? Succumbing willingly to this new feeling of joy, he let his doubts slip away.

And, then, a terrible monster had attacked his city, Zanarkand. Tidus had panicked: he had run for his life.

Don’t worry. He was just coming to find you.

He had swum for hours in the ocean around Spira, until at last he drew close to the shore. The landscape had been so different from how it was in his hometown; it had confused him. But despite everything, the kindness of the people who lived there had made him smile again. He had made friends, and travelled with them. He had used his new sword to fight off all sorts of fiends.

And he had fallen in love, too. The day they confessed their feelings, Tidus had realised their love was doomed. But even though he was fighting a losing battle, he had refused to give in to this fate.

Now, he was face to face with a sea of clouds: an image of the day he had left Spira. He could see himself from behind, on board the airship. Then, he had hidden his fear, and run across the deck, and jumped.

Suddenly, his chest heaved with grief.

Yuna!

The shout shook him to the core.

I’m coming back, Yuna!

He could see it clearly now: the boundary that divided his body from the surrounding darkness was more distinct. He felt as if he was being pulled out of the chaos around him.

I’m coming!

He kicked as hard as he could, driving himself towards Yuna’s world. He was coming close to a border, the one that divided here from there. He could see some kind of luminous barrier, shimmering in front of him. Was it calling him forward; did it symbolise some bright, shining place? Tidus swam up, higher and higher. Fortunately, he was an excellent swimmer.

He reached the wall, blinded by the light. And then he came to the white and blue place that awaited him beyond the border. The air filled his lungs; an almost-forgotten smell tickled his nostrils. He grimaced, taken by surprise.

The vast, boundless ocean surrounded him on all sides. Tidus felt as if an enormous creature was moving under his feet – but it was the living shadows, dark forms just like he had been only a few moments ago. If he didn’t watch out, they would call him back.

I won’t let them! I’ve only just come back!

He turned around, and at last he found the island, where a hill overlooked a forest: it was unmistakeably Besaid. The waves washed over a deserted beach. He shoved two fingers into his mouth and whistled. There was no response, but he still felt reassured; his senses weren’t lying. All of this was real, really real. Even if nobody had come to answer him, he was still happy to hear the sound of his whistling echoing back.

He began to swim towards the coast, wondering what he would find once he reached dry land.

Yuna! Where are you?

Suddenly, the sky was filled with a deafening rumble. Tidus looked up and saw a brightly coloured airship above him. His instincts took over; he began to look for somewhere to hide. The airship traced out a wide circle around him – and then a door opened and a familiar figure disembarked. Yuna.

She jumped down without hesitation. Tidus watched as she dived straight into the sea; she was wearing brightly coloured clothing like nothing he had seen before. That’s not the Yuna I know, he found himself thinking. But she looked so happy that his doubts were dispelled immediately. She hurried towards him, and took him in an embrace, and at that moment, he knew that he was the only thing that mattered to her. The realisation made him happier than he had ever anticipated.

She hesitated momentarily, and then asked, “Are you real?”

“I think so,” he said.

He wanted her to confirm it for herself. She took a step back and looked him up and down, as if she was making sure it was him.

“Do I pass?” he said.

She nodded. “You’re back.”

He sighed with relief. “I am back. I’m home.”

He pulled her towards her, taking her in his arms again. For a moment, he had thought she might push him away. He brought his mouth closer to Yuna’s ear, repeating with relief that he was back, again and again; she, in turn, replied.

“Welcome home. Yes, home …”

A voice disturbed their reunion: “Hey! Get a room, you two!”

Wakka!

Tidus turned towards the beach; the tiny cove was packed with people. He picked out Wakka and Lulu in the crowd, and yelled back, “Who asked you to watch, Wakka?”

He seized Yuna’s hand, pulling her towards the beach with him. It was the beginning of a new life for him: one that would be entirely happy. The thought of it filled him with an overwhelming joy.

“You know,” he said as they raced forward together, “you’ve changed.”

“Well, you missed a few things,” she replied.

He was surprised by her confident, proud tone; but decided it wasn’t important. As long as he could run across the beach beside her, whatever had happened in the past didn’t matter.

“I wanna hear everything!” he said.

---

The islanders had looking forward to Yuna’s return; she had been gone a long time. Tidus knew most of the people who lived in the village, and exchanged friendly greetings with them; there was Datto, and Letty, and Botta, Jassu, Keepa … it was wonderful to be back with the Aurochs again.

When he came to Wakka, his friend proudly showed him a tiny baby, wrapped up in a thick coat, and said, “This is Vidina. He’s cute, ya?”

“Really cute! But, d’you mind if I ask … who’s the mom?”

“I am,” said a sharp voice behind him. Tidus turned around, and found himself face to face with an unforgettable figure¹ – the figure of Lulu.

“Now I know where he gets his looks,” said Tidus.

Lulu let out a brief laugh, and then took the child from Wakka. “How many times have I told you not to expose him to that sea wind?” she scolded him.

“Hey,” said Wakka, “he’s an island kid! I don’t see no problem with –”

“You could have at least waited until the tide went in,” she interrupted him.

“But, sweetie …”

Tidus grinned. “So you finally got together? Congratulations! I was sure you would.”

“We did,” Lulu conceded. “It’s nothing special, to tell the truth, and sometimes I don’t know why I –”

“Hey, thanks very much!” Wakka complained.

She ignored him. “So, Tidus, will you be staying with us for long?”

“If that’s not a problem,” he replied, a little worried.

“I see,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong; you’re welcome here.” Lulu looked around; the crowd was starting to disperse. “We should get back to the village too,” she added.

She buttoned up Vidina’s coat, right up to his chin, and joined the throng of people heading home. Even though Tidus knew the baby had to be her priority, he couldn’t help suddenly feeling a bit abandoned.

“Let’s go!” said Wakka, giving him a friendly slap on the back.

As they went, the Aurochs took turns to catch up with Tidus. They told him everything that had gone on while he was away, in so much detail that he was starting to feel as if he had never been gone at all. Datto and Keepa told him proudly about how much better their playing had become, and Tidus felt genuinely delighted for them. There were even new players who had moved to Besaid for the sole reason that they wanted to join the team: that was especially heartwarming. The tournament he had played in with them seemed to have been where it all started.

The walk to the village took about half an hour. “There’s a banquet planned for tonight,” Lulu informed him when they got there. “The oldest villagers will be presiding. You should help with the preparations – show them your best qualities. You have to make a good impression – although you can rest at the lodge first, if you like.”

She pointed towards the largest tent in the village; Tidus recognised the Crusaders’ Lodge. “What are they up to these days?” he asked.

“These days? Whatever they want. And Yuna’s room is in the temple enclosure, just where it was before.”

“Hey, hey, hold on …” said Wakka, his voice taking on a teasing tone as he approached them. His arms were full of firewood, no doubt to light the fire for the banquet; even though it wouldn’t be happening for a while, Tidus’ face was already turning red.

“If you go there,” said Lulu drily, “I’ll find out, you know. It’s not a good idea – you should avoid the temple for now. You shouldn’t do anything that would confuse people; at least not until Yuna formally introduces you to the elders. And the opinion the villagers will form of you depends on your attitude. Now that the temple has no function anymore, the priests are out of work, and it’s Yuna’s job to support them. Don’t forget: she still has duties.” She shrugged, and the baby squirmed in her arms.

“So she isn’t happy?” said Tidus.

“You’ll have to ask her,” said Lulu.

“That doesn’t sound like her.”

Lulu looked as if she agreed. “From what I can tell, she’s in two minds. She feels responsible for what’s happened, but she’s becoming stifled here. That’s why she’s been flying around with Rikku and the others.”

“Yeah?” he said. “What’ve they been up to?”

“You’ll have to ask her that as well,” said Lulu. “But until you can, don’t do anything that could damage her reputation.”

“Got it,” said Tidus.

Lulu went back to her own tent, and Tidus rejoined the Aurochs. He could see Yuna standing in front of the temple, almost close enough to speak to, but it was impossible. It seemed as if the whole village had something to say to her, and nobody was willing to let her escape. She could have invented some excuse, but she was too polite; that kindness was one of her best qualities, but TIdus had to admit he was finding it slightly irritating on this occasion.

“I’m sure she wants to talk to you too, ya,” said Wakka. He went off to negotiate with the crowd, but they seemed to refuse to let Yuna go. “They’re watching you,” he remarked on his return.

“Why?” Tidus exclaimed. “I was Yuna’s guardian, and we brought the Calm, didn’t we? They should be grateful. They oughta show me some respect. And they’re not doing either of those things.”

“Well,” said a mock-serious voice behind him, “if you say so, sir!”

It was Rikku, larger than life. She was dressed differently from when Tidus had known her before, and seemed all the more confident for it; her tanned body was earning her a few stares from the people around them.

“Hey, Tidus!” she said, dropping the accent. “It’s been a while!”

She turned to call someone, and another young woman with slicked-back hair and a serious expression joined them. Dressed in black, with only her shoulders exposed, she was quite the contrast with Rikku.

“This is Paine,” said Rikku, “a friend. She was on the team with me and Yunie.”

“Yuna told me about you,” said Paine. “Went on and on, actually.” She passed her eyes over Tidus as if she was judging him.

“It’s been two years,” Rikku supplied, “but …” She stepped closer to Tidus too, looking over him in the same way.

Two years … Tidus’ stomach sank. From the conversations he had had so far, he had realised that he had been away at least a few months. But two years …

“You’re just the same as before!” Rikku concluded.

Tidus didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; he settled on an attempt at a smile.

“Says you,” he said. “Look at you …”

Rikku leant forward, folding her arms, and Tidus’ gaze drifted to Yuna in the distance behind her.

“And you haven’t changed either,” he murmured to himself.

Yuna was starting to worry him. Her taste in clothes had changed completely; he was wondering whether that was the only thing that had changed about her.

“Hey, I’m over here!” said Rikku, pouting. “What’s with you? You’re different!”

“You just said the opposite,” Tidus pointed out.

“I was talking about how you look,” she said. “But on the inside, you’ve changed. Before, you were kinda dumb, but at least people liked you.”

“Well, thanks for the compliment,” he said.

That made them both laugh, and after that, Rikku started telling him about everything that had happened over the past two years. She told him about all the groups who had tried to find out the truth about Spira,² and the sphere hunters and the Gullwings. To start with, Tidus tried asking questions, but soon all the names were too much to keep track of.

“You had fun, huh?” he said.

“Does that bother you?”

“Well,” he said, “I don’t have anything to tell you in return. Two years away, and I don’t have a single story … what was I doing all that time?”

“Taking a break,” Paine suggested.

She was grinning, so Tidus assumed it was a joke. But one thing was clear: staying where he was wasn’t going to enlighten him about what had been happening for the last two years.

“Sure, I’m glad you had a good time,” he said. “If you’d just spent it crying over me, I’d’ve felt pretty bad.”

He’d said it cheerfully enough, but Rikku frowned. “I didn’t cry,” she confirmed, “but I was angry. I wanted to understand. I wanted to know what had happened to you, and why. In the end, I came up with a reason, but …”

“Yeah?” he said. “What was it?”

“Yuna seemed like she was having fun with the Gullwings,” said Paine, who seemed to be thinking aloud. “But I think it was forced, most of the time. She probably liked the sphere hunting and the concerts, but really her main goal was … you. She wanted to find you again. Or maybe forget you, I don’t know.”

“Me?”

“Yes. It was after seeing a sphere of you that she left the village.”

“I’m sorry?” said Tidus.

“There was this guy, Shuyin,” said Paine, “and Lenne, the girl he was in love with. They were alive a thousand years ago. She was a summoner, and a famous singer. There was a whole thing going on there, but the point is, he was your spitting image. And Yuna even wondered if he might have been you. She thought she might find you again; she was wrong.”

“But,” said Rikku, “while all that was happening, we had to take down a thousand-year-old war machina!”

“Seriously?” said Tidus. It all sounded ridiculous, but knowing all too well that reality was often stranger than fiction, he decided not to press the point.

“I know, it’s unbelievable,” said Rikku. “But I saw it with my own eyes, so I had to agree it was real. If I’d stopped to think about it, it would have killed me before I worked out was going on.” She grasped her neck with both hands and stuck out her tongue to demonstrate.

“The machine was called Vegnagun,” Paine explained. “It was huge. It wiped out everything. It had been reactivated, so we had to take care of it.” She narrowed her eyes and stared at Tidus.

“What’re you looking at?” he asked.

“Yuna says the fayth promised her that you’d come back in exchange for saving Spira again,” said Paine.

“So I’m here because of the fayth?” Tidus ventured.

“No!” said Rikku. “Yuna did it. Not the fayth.”

Around them, the other conversations ebbed away; everyone looked in their direction. Tidus could feel the older members of the crowd looking gravely at him from where they stood, still surrounding the High Summoner. His eyes met Yuna’s; her lips formed the words “sorry” and “later”.

He smiled, and then, thinking he should show his frustration at her passivity, followed it up with a shrug of annoyance.

“Later,” Yuna repeated again, making the word very clear. An elderly lady followed her gaze towards Tidus, and then looked back at Yuna; she began to scold her. Immediately, Yuna started apologising profusely.

But it seemed as if “later” would never come. The older villagers continued talking together; eventually a matron declared that Yuna should change her outfit, and led her into the temple. Tidus took Lulu’s advice, helping with the preparations for the banquet; as everyone in the village was getting involved, there was nothing else he could have done anyway. With an awkward smile, he joined Rikku and Paine, and they continued talking.

The girls told him more about what had happened while he was away: they told him about Kimahri, and about New Yevon, and the Youth League, and the Machine Faction. The more they went on about the concert where Yuna had performed, the more they annoyed him: he was starting to feel as if they were making light of all the serious things that had happened, bringing him so close to death. As if they were just treating it all like a fun adventure.

“What’s up with you?” said Rikku. “You’re all grumpy.”

“No, I’m not,” he protested halfheartedly.

“Pull the other one,” she said. “You’re taking this too seriously. I’ve been trying to tell you everything, and you’re just … well, if that’s how it is, I’m going back to the airship.”

Paine asked Tidus to let Yuna know they had left and that they would return in a few days, and he managed to mumble a few words in reply. Nothing felt worse than being alone in the middle of a crowd; a crowd busy with all sorts of things. No longer able to deal with it, he headed to the Crusaders’ Lodge and flung himself onto one of the beds, continuing to be plagued by doubts and fragmented thoughts as the day went on.

The banquet would start once night fell; soon, Tidus thought. He closed his eyes, and pictured the expression that would be on Yuna’s face once they were together again.

Later on, Wakka came in to wake him up. “The boat’s gonna come in soon with tonight’s catch,” he said. “They need help bringing the fish in. Come on, that’s the Aurochs’ job!”

He went back to rejoin the team, who had settled on playing a match while they waited for the ship to come in. Once they were all there, Keepa proposed a challenge: a race to the port. Tidus accepted, and joined the others in dashing down the path; but as he went, his mind was still occupied wholly by thoughts of Yuna instead of the competition.

She must be wondering where I am. I should have stayed in the village …

“You’re falling behind, Tidus!” one of the team called.

He looked around. He was running as fast as he could, but everyone was still ahead of him – everyone except Wakka.

“Hey, Wakka!” the guy at the front called. “It’s nearly nighttime, you might fall. Slow down, you’re gonna get hurt!”

“Shut it!” Wakka countered, but he was laughing just as much as the others were.

“That’s enough, guys, let’s stop,” he added, a moment later. Unable to keep up, he had decided to force the rest of the team to wait for him. Tidus took advantage of the opportunity to slow his pace before coming to a stop.

“Hey, Wakka,” he said, “was it retiring that made you like this?”

Short of breath and soaked in sweat, Wakka shook his head before starting to walk again. “You remember the tournament we were both in two years ago, in Luca?” he said. “I thought I’d stop playing after that. I told you about it, ya? I wanted to just be a trainer. But we lost the match after that, by a long way. It wasn’t like back when we used to lose every match, but it was still pretty hard. After that we trained as hard as we could, every single day. The villagers even let us off our duties so we could dedicate ourselves to the game. And we got better! The best we’ve ever been, I think. Watching Datto and Letty made me want to practise again. But that’s when Yuna started talking about the Gullwings and getting worried about everything, and the kid was on the way, and I got more involved with what was going on in the village. I’m still just as into it as the rest of ’em, and I’m still young, ya, but …” He shrugged, as if to add, “You get it?”

Wakka had always had trouble making decisions, Tidus thought.

“But every day,” Wakka went on, “I get to be told off by Lulu …” He lowered his head as if to hide his embarrassment. They were far behind the rest of the team by now; the two of them couldn’t hear them anymore.

Tidus walked on, still thinking about the two years that had passed, and Wakka tentatively put an arm around his shoulders.

Were we this close before? Tidus wondered. Lost in thought, he kept walking, letting Wakka nudge him on.

The path they were taking circled the island; it was known as Waterfall Way. The drops of water falling from the top of the cliffs meant they were soon soaked. Wakka’s fingers worked their way up the nape of Tidus’ neck, all the way into his hair, and started to rub against the back of his head in a circular motion. The situation was getting more and more bizarre.

“What’s the big idea?!” Tidus eventually exclaimed, swatting away Wakka’s hand.

“Sorry,” said Wakka, who really did look ashamed, “but I had to check. You really are real, ya? Not just an illusion? A ghost from the Farplane?”

“I hope not,” said Tidus; “of course I’m real!”

“Course,” said Wakka cheerfully. “Got it!” He burst into laughter, as if he was trying to put things right.

But Tidus couldn’t forget his friend’s suggestion; it would stay firmly in his mind. He thought about that other world, the place where spirits could take shape in response to people’s prayers and speak to them; he remembered his first visit to the Farplane. He had thought about his mother, and she had appeared. But wasn’t he a ghost as well?

“Are those spectres just hallucinations?” he asked.

“Nah,” said Wakka, “they’re real visions.”

“And that means …”

“Here’s how I see it,” said Wakka. “The pyreflies react to what’s in the visitor’s mind, and they take the shape of whoever that person wants to see. The visitor just invents the conversation: that’s why the dead person can only tell the living person what they really want to hear. If the living person wants encouragement, the dead person’ll give it to them. And if they wanna be told off, that’s what they’ll get too.”

“Seriously?”

It was a very clear explanation, which was unusual for Wakka. But Tidus suddenly understood: his friend had always believed in Yevon’s teachings, and followed them since he was a young child. Then he had found out it was all a lie. No longer able to rely on his faith, he had tried to make sense of the world around him. That was why his answer was so simple.

“But we’re on Besaid, not at the Farplane, right?” he pointed out. “So I’ve gotta be real.”

As he said it, he pinched Wakka’s waist; Wakka let out an exaggerated shout of indignation, and ran on to catch up with the others.

Chapter Two

The sea around Besaid teemed with fish, although no more of the stock was ever plundered than was necessary to keep the islanders fed. To make money, they spun fabrics that were unique to the island, and in the last few months, they had also managed to make some profit from the increased numbers of tourists who had come to see the home of High Summoner Yuna. Part of the temple had been converted into a hostel, and new tents had been erected for visitors to stay in.

When Tidus arrived at the cove, the sky was lit orange by the sunset, but there was no sign of the ship he expected.

“What’s that?” he said, pointing at a small vessel moored to the jetty.

Wakka drew himself up with pride, and announced, “Presenting the Auroch Ace!”

Since his return, Tidus had heard several mentions of the ship the team used to train – but he’d thought it would be bigger. The figurehead looked like a commemorative plaque; he guessed it was meant to resemble a blitzball trophy, but unlike the real thing, which would have been made of gold, this one was just painted yellow. All in all, it looked fairly shabby.

“Thanks to this baby,” said Wakka, “we’ve managed to get a whole lot better at the game!”

The sandbanks around Besaid were so extensive that they made it difficult to train; in such shallow water, it was dangerous to jump. As a result, the Aurochs had always had trouble with diving in and out of the water quickly. But thanks to the Ace, they were now able to reach deeper waters as much as they liked. That had allowed them to pick up techniques that required them to make full use of the depth of the sphere.

“It’s revolutionised our game,” said Botta, puffing out his chest proudly; Tidus gave it a friendly tap to show his approval.

“It used to be a merchant ship, taking small goods to Kilika Port,” Wakka explained. “We restored it ourselves. The villagers all chipped in, and that raised enough for us to buy it and pay for the materials. So we can’t let them down now, ya?”

On Letty’s order, they all began their stretches, ready for training. With Datto, Botta, Jassu, Keepa and Vilucha,³ the new recruits Mesker and Karam, and Wakka and Tidus, there were ten altogether; Wakka divided them into two teams. Letty gave a whistle, and the match began.

They were playing according to the rules for half blitz, which specified that players weren’t allowed to submerge themselves completely under the water, regardless of whether they had the ball; if they did so, they would earn a penalty. Tidus soon received two; he was having trouble restraining himself.

The others on his team assured him that it didn’t matter and that he shouldn’t worry; but their encouragements just bothered him. When he’d played with them before, he had quite obviously been more skilled than the rest of them, a star player in the midst of a bunch of kids from some backwater. Had the Aurochs really improved that much, or had he just got that much worse?

“Bend it like Beclem!” Botta suddenly yelled, and the ball hit Tidus right in the face.

Beclem, who had trained the team for a while, was well-known for his strictness. This new technique he had taught them was just as unknown to Tidus as was the man himself; it didn’t fail to get the better of him. In an attempt to make a joke out of this crushing defeat, Tidus played dead, sinking under the surface of the water with his arms and legs flaccid.

As he did so, he heard a voice: “Let’s stop there. Whoever scores the next point wins the match, ya?”

Resurfacing, Tidus found himself beside Keepa, who explained with a not quite convincing style that it was nearly evening. “We’re not gonna see the ball much longer,” he pointed out.

The fishing vessel they had all been waiting for was finally making its way back to the dock, illuminated by bright lights. Once it arrived, the Aurochs all helped moor it and unload the cargo, wooden crates full of fresh fish. Working together, the blitzers and the fishermen poured the fish out into large bags, which they divided among themselves and then hoisted over their shoulders.

“What about me?” Tidus asked. “Don’t I get to carry anything?”

“Sorry,” said one of the fishermen. “The catch was rather insufficient today.” He caught Tidus’ eye; the man was around forty years old, tall and pale-skinned with a bushy moustache.

“I’m Tidus,” said Tidus; “nice to meet you.”

“Briar.”⁴ He held out a trident. “If you’d like, you can take this for me.”

“Do you use it for fishing?” Tidus enquired.

Briar shook his head with a grin. “No, a net. The weapon is for defending myself.”

“Against fiends?”

Abruptly, Briar turned away from him, and said, “Wakka – do you have a moment?”

The two of them stepped away to talk; Tidus couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could see Wakka’s expression, and that gave him some idea of the topic.

After that, the Aurochs started heading back to the village, discussing how the fish might best be cooked; Tidus and Briar were the last ones left behind at the cove. The ocean was still, lit peacefully by the moon; small, gelatinous sea creatures made their way across the beach, finally able to make their journeys without being sent scurrying into the undergrowth by heavy human footsteps. There would still be fiends around, Tidus thought. Would he still be capable of fighting them? Was he strong enough? Or was he just a shadow of his real self now, like the blitzball game had sugested?

“I’d forgotten,” Briar mumbled, looking down at the blitzball, which had come to rest near his feet.

“Pass it here!” Tidus suggested, hoping it might be a way of continuing their conversation. But Briar did no such thing, instead merely turning back to stare at Tidus again. With little idea of what else to do, Tidus returned his gaze, watching as his long dark hair danced gently in the evening breeze.

Looking at Briar more closely made Tidus realise he was younger than he had thought; the moustache made him look older. But the most striking thing about him was his eyes: they were light blue, like seaglass.

“Eyes …” Briar murmured.

Startled, Tidus wedged the trident into the sand, and made for the blitzball.

“Eyes,” Briar repeated, “that have looked into the distance for too long.”

“Huh?”

What he had said clearly required further explanation, but Briar fell silent once more.

Tidus kicked the ball into the air, caught it in his right hand, and passed it into his left with a fluid motion. Knee, head, shoulders: the routine was one he had internalised many years ago. Briar said nothing more; Tidus decided to change his approach, and remarked, “You weren’t here two years ago.”

“That’s right,” said Briar. “I came so I could live near the High Summoner.”

“Oh, right,” said Tidus.

“I take care of the temple,” Briar explained, “on the monks’ instruction. I was transferred here a month ago from Bevelle. Have you heard of New Yevon?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, in my view, they’re cowards, the lot of them.”

Tidus laughed – somewhat hesitantly, but privately, he agreed. “Is that right?” he said. “Hey, what do you think of the Youth League?”

“Idiots.”

“Really?”

Briar nodded. “Idiots, every one.”

“Wow,” said Tidus, “you’re harsh. And … what about the Machine Faction?”

Briar said nothing; Tidus waited for him to answer, concentrating on balancing the ball on his head.

“I saw you coming,” said Briar at last.

“Huh?” Tidus wasn’t sure what he meant; he turned to look at the sea. The ball fell of his hand, landing on the sand.

“Earlier today. We heard on the CommSphere that Yuna was back, and the villagers all went out to the beach – I followed them. I saw you come out of the water. How did you get here?”

It was a question that Tidus had no desire to answer. A poorly concocted explanation could have disastrous results: if there was trouble with this man, who seemed to have a connection with Yevon, things would surely go very badly for Yuna.

“Two years ago,” Briar continued, “you came here from Zanarkand. But not the ruined Zanarkand we know; a huge, thriving city. People have trouble believing it, although I’d like to.”

“Uh,” said Tidus, “thanks?”

“How did you get here on that occasion?” Briar asked.

Tidus remained silent.

“There was a rumour that Sin brought you here.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” said Tidus.

“Do you think it would have been able to take you back there again?”

It was another question he didn’t want to answer. Besides, Yuna had defeated Sin; there was no way of testing this hypothesis. Tidus knew only one thing for sure, and said so: “My city doesn’t exist anymore. It was a summoning.”

“Tell me more.”

Tidus shrugged noncomittally. “Sin brought complete chaos to Zanarkand. How would it have survived something like that?”

“You never know,” said Briar. “Recently, I’ve seen a few signs; I think, soon, I may be able to solve the mystery that I’ve been interested in for many years.”

“What mystery?”

“The greatest mystery of all,” said Briar; and then, suddenly, he laughed.

Tidus felt himself getting angry. “Are you mocking me?” he demanded. “What do you want? Did you come here so you could live near Yuna, or did they transfer you from Bevelle? What did you want to say to me? Why are you really here?”

“I apologise if I upset you,” said Briar. “My life is a little too complex to sum up. People always try to find explanations for what happens; but in reality, all these causes and effects are attributed after the fact.”

“I hate the stupid fancy way you talk!” Tidus exclaimed.

“Have a good evening,” said Briar, and he headed off towards the village.

Immediately regretting what he had said, Tidus mumbled, “Sorry.” To his surprise, Briar turned to acknowledge the apology with a little wave; he had clearly heard.

Tidus felt guilty about the way he had spoken; it was as if he had betrayed Auron, to whom he owed so much. Briar was right: some people’s lives were too complicated to explain in a few words. If one of those people wanted to share their wisdom, they would speak in the way Briar had done: the same way Auron had, once.

Maybe I’ll be like that one day too.

Now alone on the shore, Tidus headed to the jetty and lay on the boards, looking up at the sky. The stars were obscured by thick cloud. The wind was getting stronger, and the sounds of the waves lapping against the posts that held the jetty in place seemed to be increasing in volume.

Once the Aurochs brought in the day’s catch, the banquet would start. Then, Tidus would have no chance of speaking to Yuna. He wondered whether it was a punishment; whether it had been arranged so as to prevent him from seeing her. If he could discover who had decreed such a thing, he would be able to lift this restriction and finally speak to here. That would be so wonderful …

“People always try to find explanations for what happens; but in reality, all these causes and effects are attributed after the fact.”

Tidus yelped in frustration, kicking against the wooden board he lay on. The board made a dull sound on contact; but another, sharper sound made itself heard afterwards. Something metallic. Tidus sat up, looking around to try and find where it came from.

There were remnants of ancient machina in several places on the island; Tidus was sure nobody knew what they had been used for. Some of them were close to the cove: among them, a few chimneys or pipes, their orange paint faded by the passage of time. On the side closest to the water, Tidus spotted a gull, holding something in place with its feet and leaning down to peck at it erratically. That was the source of the strange clanging noise.

Reassured, Tidus lay down again, closing his eyes. The gull had made him think of the Gullwings; Yuna had spent the last two years with them, and they seemed nice enough. But thinking about how his friends’ lives had gone on without him, and that they had had fun – even Yuna – that made him feel uncomfortable. She was no longer the shy seventeen-year-old he had met two years ago, overwhelmed by the duty she had committed herself to; she was a young woman in her prime.

He sighed. Would he really have preferred her to have spent that time mourning him? He had to admit the answer was yes, as much as he hated himself for it. Worried, he began to fidget.

---

It was time to eat; the fish had all been prepared. But Yuna was missing, as were some of the older islanders.

“The old folks are all still off somewhere,” Wakka murmured to himself. He knew they had been looking forward to Yuna’s return; in fact, everyone older than she was, himself included, had played a part in bringing her up. They were all so proud of the young woman she had become. The orphaned daughter of the previous High Summoner had grown up in the temple, surrounded by people of unshakeable faith, and as if in response to their prayers, she had followed her father’s footsteps, defeating Sin and bringing to Spira the Calm that everyone longed for.

Then, the truth about Yevon had emerged; the temples had ceased to function. But despite everything, older people continued to follow the teachings, insisting that not everything within them was wrong. Everyone was allowed to believe what they wanted now; but those of an earlier generation were clearly intolerant of people who chose to move away from Yevon. As they saw it, young people were straying from the right path; they were having too much fun. The village had always felt like a family; it broke Wakka’s heart to see this generational divide.

Older people had trouble adapting to change. Young figureheads like Nooj and Baralai were the face of that change; their influence had quickly spread over Spira, even to places as isolated as Besaid. In the new era, news from three days ago was already out of date; it disconcerted the older islanders to be living in these times. They had always known a changeless world. Fortunately, Yuna hadn’t forgotten what she owed them, and in these uncertain times, they were still able to rely on her.

“Wonder what they’ve got planned for her,” Wakka muttered. He headed to the temple and breathed in deeply, inhaling the familiar mixture of votive incense and warm stone that constituted the temple’s distinctive smell. A blessing of Yevon …

Chapter Three

“There’s something on the roof!”

The couple embracing on the top storey of Ventilation Duct 1 hurriedly disentangled themselves. Catching their breath, they listened closely. The same noise again, as if something hard was knocking against the metal. The sound came from above; it resonated in the wall, clanging with an irregular rhythm.

“What is it?” Kush whispered.

“A bird,” Valm replied. “By the strength of the blows, it sounds like a gull.”

Visibly reassured, Kush lay back on the cushions again, clearly planning to relax for a while longer. But Valm stood up and started putting on his lightweight armour. Kush watched as he adjusted the leather panels over his muscled chest.

“How do you know it was a gull?” she asked.

“Only birds and monkeys can get that high up,” Valm explained. “Based on the noise, I guessed it was a fairly big animal, knocking something hard against the metal. A bird’s beak seemed more likely than a monkey using some kind of tool; and gulls are the only thing we get around here.”

“That makes sense,” said Kush. “But what does it want?”

“Go and ask it?” Valm suggested.

“That makes sense too,” said Kush.

Kush was a summoner; she had been chosen to receive the training as a child. All she was familiar with was the haven of Bevelle, and this island; she knew astoundingly little about Spira. That was why she always agreed with what Valm said.

When they had first met three years ago, he had thought she was mocking him. Secretly, he had despised her, believing he was dealing with a spoilt child. But once he learnt about the circumstances in which she had grown up, he had began to feel sympathy towards her, and to his great surprise, that affection had grown into love. Before meeting Kush, Valm had never imagined he might fall in love with a summoner.

Summoners were sensitive to pyreflies, the souls of those gone before. Valm had once believed them to be sinister people who were obsessed with death. But Kush, like all summoners, experienced emotions just like any other person. Really, she was no different from him. Despite this, the authorities had insisted on deploying the summoners as an elite battle corps, subject to strict rules.

People didn’t volunteer to join this unit; summoners were so rare that they weren’t given the choice. Kush and people like her were made to give up their lives to the government’s service. In exchange, their families’ safety was guaranteed while they lived, and for an additional twenty years after their death.

Kush seemed noble and refined, although she came from a poor family. This reassured Valm; he was the same. He had never left the island in his life, although he too had taken an oath that had allowed his family to escape this miserable existence.

“I’ll go down first,” he said. “The Bedohls must have had enough of waiting for me.”

“Maybe next time,” said Kush, “we could meet without them?”

“Why?” he asked. “Did they annoy you?”

“No,” she said, “not at all. It would just be nice for it to be just the two of us.”

“Then who’ll carry your litter?”

She giggled. “I can walk as well as you can. No, better, actually.”

“I’m sure you can,” said Valm, “but there are more of those poisonous insects around – the ones the enemies brought here. I’m worried that –”

“Does it hurt when they bite?” she asked.

“Like hell.”

Kush laughed again. “Hell! Well, that doesn’t mean anything to me!”

He knew what she was referring to. In childhood, he had often spent time with his grandmother in the evenings, and she had told him about hell. It was a place of eternal suffering; those who had dared defy the gods were sent there, whether they were dead or still alive. Those who wanted to escape this fate were required to keep the faith all their lives; after they died, they would be rewarded by being born again in the other world, in the form of a flower. As a child, Valm had thought becoming a flower and going to hell sounded just as bad as each other, but his grandmother had offered so many reasons why this wasn’t the case that it had been pointless to argue. As an adult, he understood that she had been totally faithful to the authorities; they were the representatives of the gods in the physical world.

“Can’t we avoid the insects without relying on the Bedohls?” Kush asked.

“I suppose so,” said Valm. “We could use the dangerous route.”

“That would be great!” she said.

“Fine,” said Valm. “Get dressed, then.”

He headed towards the spiral staircase, intending to go down and speak to the Bedohls; when he arrived at the first step, he looked back over his shoulder. Kush had stood up and was looking out of the window. She was almost as slim as the goddess Luchera, apart from the fact that her hips were a little rounder; Valm was almost surprised not to see wings growing from her back. The fine garment that Kush had put on had slipped to reveal the heart-shaped birthmark low on the right-hand side of her back. In his opinion, it was adorable.

“There’s someone by the water!” Kush whispered urgently.

Valm hurried back to her side; the moonlight allowed them to see what was going on out there.

“Look,” she clarified; “on the jetty.” There was a young man down there, standing beside a shabby boat that bobbed about on the waves.

A refugee, Valm thought. But why would he come to the island? That’s suicide.

Without taking his eyes away from the stranger, he exhorted Kush to get dressed, before raising his thumb and forefinger to his mouth, intending to call the Bedohls. But he decided to hold off on whistling; the man on the shore was unloading a bag from the boat, visibly nervous. After untying it, which seemed to be a struggle, he took out something round.

A ball?

The stranger placed the ball on the ground in front of him; Valm didn’t know what to think. He knew it was possible for refugees to make their way to the island – but what was he planning to do? Play sport? That seemed ridiculous.

The young man turned to face the tower, and looked up into the sky.

It’s a trick! Valm thought suddenly. He knows I’m watching him.

Seeming nonchalant, the man walked away from the ball. Valm had to admit that he was a good actor.

Suddenly realising what was happening, he shouted, “It’s a bomb!”

He seized Kush by the waist, tore her away from the window and pushed her against the pillar in the middle of the room; while he was dragging her towards the stairs, the device exploded. Valm lost his balance. Instinctively, he held Kush against his chest as he fell on his back against the steps, crying out in pain. The back of his head made contact with a hard surface; he could smell the powder from the explosive, but knew he was about to lose consciousness, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was certain, though, that he would kill the assassin as soon as he came to. He would not let this island fall into the hands of the heretic mage.

Chapter Four

The Celsius was making its way through the evening sky at a low speed; so low, in fact, that if it went any slower it would be likely to stall and crash.

At the bridge, Paine was listening to Rikku, Brother, and Buddy talking. At his usual post in front of the control screen, Shinra had his back turned to his crewmates, concentrating on his duties. Perhaps he was calculating figures for the flight, or killing time working on a puzzle. Behind his mask and goggles, it was impossible to see his expression.

“Is there a storm coming?” Paine asked, taking advantage of a lull in the conversation. When the Al Bhed spoke their language quickly, she couldn’t understand much of what they were saying.

Rikku examined the radar. “There’s a big depression heading for Besaid from the south,” she said. “It’s gonna be really windy.”

“We should warn them,” Paine suggested.

“The CommSphere isn’t working,” said Shinra matter-of-factly. Brother began yelling, but he ignored him, just shrugging. “They’re working less and less well – all of them, not just the Besaid one.”

“Why’s that?” said Paine.

“I don’t know,” said Shinra. “I’m just a kid.”

Shinra could be frustrating, but nobody knew machines better than he did. Paine had a lot of respect for his skills; Brother clearly didn’t, as he was still ranting and raving. Paine had no idea what Brother was saying, but his shouts and gesticulations were really starting to annoy her.

“In that case …” she began.

Nobody could hear.

“Shut up!” she yelled.

Brother froze mid-movement, assuming a ludicrous pose.

“Yes?” said Shinra.

“Shouldn’t we hurry, and head to Besaid before the storm gets there?” she suggested. “All their buildings are just canvas; we really should warn them.”

“If the wind blows away their tents, they’ll lose everything,” Rikku agreed.

Brother seemed to be on the verge of tears. They had left Besaid hastily, like thieves; they had no particular destination, but Buddy had thought it a good idea not to let Brother get too close to the reunited Yuna and Tidus.

“I guess it’s just a storm,” Paine said. “They’ll have seen others.” She looked at Brother, feeling a little pity for him; none of them respected his wishes, herself included.

“You think?” said Rikku. “According to the radar … oh! It’s gone off!”

“Maybe it’s reached the end,” Shinra suggested. “It just won’t work anymore. It is over a thousand years old, after all – it wouldn’t be unusual for it to fail.”

“Can’t you make a new one?” Rikku asked.

“Good question,” said Shinra. “Yes, why can’t I? After all, we Al Bhed are good with machines; but all we know how to do is use them. Of course, we’ve gained a few skills: we can dig them up, work out what they’re for, get them into working order and work out how to operate them. But we can’t build new ones. I do sometimes ask myself why. Don’t you all find that strange? Even while Yevon banned them, we continued using them, but we never kept a single set of instructions for how to use them. I mean, we’re gradually rediscovering a few principles and formulae, but only when we really need to. Our ancestors didn’t leave us anything. Why? That’s the greatest mystery of the Al Bhed race.”

Chapter Five

Tidus had boarded the Auroch Ace, deciding to explore the boat to give himself something to do. He remembered the old combustion motor that had used to transport the team from the shore to the part of the sea where they trained, even when there was no wind. Doing so successfully would require a powerful engine.

On the deck, near the stern, he came across a trapdoor. The motor in question was underneath; it had been polished so much that it shone brightly. There was a ladder that would let him get down there, but he decided not to; he wasn’t very interested in machines.

Next to the prow, two-thirds of the way along the deck, there was a small enclosed area. The tiller was inside, along with a console with buttons and levers that controlled the motor. There was probably a radio as well, Tidus thought. A trident had been left in the corner; he picked it up to inspect it. When he put it back, he dislodged a ball, which rolled to the back of the little room, close to the compartment opposite the tiller. There, a set of stairs led under the deck.

He descended the stairs, opened the door at the bottom and found himself in a cabin. The small space housed a two-seater settee, a simple bed, and a small table. The external sections, one by the settee and the other by the bed, each contained a round porthole. Near sea level, they allowed him nonetheless to see the landscape. Everything was gently illuminated by the moonlight that filtered in.

Tidus lay on the bed. The Ace wasn’t in top condition, but the room had been looked after well. The partitions between its segments were covered with Besaid fabric, and the ceiling was decorated with an elaborate design that would have been worthy of a capital city hotel. All in all, it was rather confusing: the boat could hold ten people, but this cabin would only fit seven, and that was if they were all prepared to squeeze in tightly. And to use it in a way that would allow some comfort, really there would just need to be two.

He wasn’t in the mood to puzzle out the mysteries of the ship, though – there were plenty of other questions that he was already wondering about. For example …

Tidus closed his eyes.

For example … what?

The sensation of falling woke him with a start. He stood, and suddenly found himself retching; the boat was rocking up and down in the swell.

The wind’s got up.

“Did I go to sleep?” he said out loud, amazed.

What time was it? There was no longer any light at all in the cabin; the moon and stars must have been obscured by clouds. He looked through one of the portholes; the shore was no longer visible.

“No way!” he exclaimed.

He leapt over the table to peer through the porthole on the other side; it was just as dark. The Ace seemed to have left the cove, even though it had been moored.

“Oh no,” Tidus groaned, “this can’t be happening.”

He stood again, smacking his head against the low ceiling, and swore, as much out of anger as pain. Then he fumbled his way to the exit, eventually finding it when his forehead hit the doorframe.

With a hand pressed against the bruise that was quickly starting to form, he ascended the stairs to the deck, groaning. But the sight of a figure at the helm stopped him dead. The person was wearing a white hooded robe, decorated with red shapes at its hem, and leather shoes. There was a familiar sweet smell in the air – the smell of Besaid Temple.

“Yuna!” he cried, and his voice cracked. “Yuna,” he said again.

She turned around, lowering her hood, and then touched his forehead lightly with her fingertips. “Perhaps I should have brought a sphere,” she murmured.

“It’s fine,” he said, shaking his head so forcefully that it made her laugh. “I’m OK now.”

“Sorry I made you wait,” she said.

“It was terrible,” said Tidus. “I thought …”

She silenced him by placing a finger to his lips. “I waited two years.”

He nodded; she removed her finger. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yuna,” he said, tentatively stepping forward, but she turned away from him, and hesitantly pulled one of the levers.

“All aboard the Auroch Ace,” she announced in a singsong voice, “for a private cruise!” The motor started with a quiet rumble, which increased in intensity until the whole vessel was vibrating.

“Do you know this boat’s other name?” Yuna asked.

“How should I?” he replied, with more irritation in his voice than he had intended.

“The Aurochs call it The Friends. I told them we’d be taking it alone tonight.”

She turned to face him, beaming, but then lowered her eyes immediately as if she was overwhelmed. Tidus recalled the small cabin under the deck; he felt his cheeks growing hot.

“We’ve just left the dock,” Yuna explained. “Shall we follow the coast around to the other side of the island? The wind’s got stronger, but we could find somewhere to drop anchor.”

“If you like,” said Tidus. “I don’t care about the wind.”

He walked towards Yuna, placing his left hand over hers on the tiller. With his right, he reached for the lever, and nudged it further forward. Under their feet, the noise of the motor intensified, and the Ace gradually began to accelerate.

“Do you know how to sail?” Yuna asked.

“Yeah,” said Tidus proudly. “I grew up on a boat, you know.” He thought back to his father’s houseboat; he had known how to navigate it. How had he managed to forget that he had those skills? But Yuna’s scent and the smell of the sea were too distracting for him to dwell on the question.

“Shall we go down?” he suggested.

“Don’t you want to wait until we’ve dropped anchor?” said Yuna. “It’ll be safer …”

“Not worth it,” said Tidus. “Come on.”

Chapter Six

He had used all the ammunition and grenades he had brought, and taken down a number of the enemies advancing on him. He hadn’t noticed the change in the weather until leaving the island: there were always heavy clouds and stronger winds before a storm, but while fighting, he had been blinded by excitement and fear and hadn’t seen them. Fighting for one’s life means neglecting to think of the future.

The rain was so heavy he could barely see what was in front of him; the squall was sending spray from the sea into his eyes. The little boat was pitching rapidly, and he was losing balance. A string of foul curses rose to his lips.

“Calm down, calm down,” he exhorted himself.

He wanted to leave the island as quickly as he could – he believed he had accomplished his task. At the top of the ventilation shaft, he had identified one of his targets: a man who seemed to be young, but clearly wasn’t Johit. Meroh, perhaps? He had had his guards with him, and someone else who was probably the intended Aeon’s Soul. It always had to be a family member or close friend: the stronger the link between the summoner and Aeon’s Soul, the more powerful the aeon. He hoped the bomb had killed them both: or at least the mage, who was dangerously powerful. The others were less of a worry.

This war between the two cities seemed endless, but he had just given his life to end it – sacrificed himself for the sake of peace.

“No …”

The assassin lowered his hands, raising his gaze to the sky. Assaulted by the wind and the sea spray, it was difficult to see.

“The truth …”

He had never thought about how the war would end. His only motivation was the Princess Summoner. He had wished he could live by her side as her most faithful servant. He remembered the ceremony where he had sworn his oath: she had embraced him. He recalled the sweet scent of her hands; and with that memory, he was at peace.

Valm crawled into the shallows: the assassin had suddenly seemed to become calm. Only his eyes and the top of his head were above the water. Approaching, Valm noted the face of his enemy: he was just a teenager. Had the mage brainwashed him, or had the boy been taken in by the charms of the sorceress?

As if sensing Valm’s presence, the assassin turned around. In one fell swoop, Valm stood and jumped into the boat, grabbed the boy by his dark hair, pulled him forward and delivered a blow to his stomach with his knee. His adversary crumpled, vomiting; above him, Valm drew his sabre. The boy let out a strangled cry.

Once the job was done, Valm paid little attention to the pyreflies that were already starting to escape his victim; he was more interested in searching the boat. There seemed to be no weapons, but the boat itself was likely to be useful, as it would have a motor. It would have been good to call his comrades, but all he could do was whistle; a fire would have been more useful, if not for the storm, which rendered both those options pointless.

Shielding his eyes with his hands in an attempt to see more clearly through the plain, Valm looked towards the highest point of the island.

Luchera, goddess of war, bless us and protect us with your wings unfolded!

---

In the centre of the island, underground, the South Division of the War Office was shielded from the noise outside. Most of the troups stationed on the island were gathered there in the ceremony room; it was silent, apart from a string of stifled sobs.

In the middle of the room, the altar was covered in so many flowers that it was barely visible. Kush had just finished the sending; Sloan, the dead man’s brother, was still on his knees, his shoulders shaking as he cried. Approaching him, Kush placed a hand on his broad back.

Anli, whose real name was Pohlan, had died. Yet his handsome face was so peaceful that it seemed he was only sleeping. The summoner was still a teenager, but Anli’s soul had begun its travels to the other world.

The commander, Alb, drew close. “Sloan,” he asked in a voice made hoarse by age, “what happened to the assassin?”

“It was a young girl,” Sloan replied. “I dealt with her.”

“And her soul?”

“Let it come back,” said Sloan, “and I’ll see it off again!”

Frowning, Alb was about to reply, but he was prevented by the arrival of Valm, who was soaked to his skin.

“Is there news?” someone asked.

Without replying, Valm looked down at Anli’s corpse; then, after a long pause, he drew near Sloan and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll never forgive them,” Sloan muttered.

Valm nodded, his face sombre.

“There aren’t that many of us left,” said Sloan. He turned towards Alb, and asked, “When do you think the mechanical Bedohls will be ready?”

“We’re having a few difficulties,” Alb admitted, “but I think we’ll get there soon.”

“Soon?” said Sloan. “That’s no good at all. If you don’t have enough test subjects, I can take care of it.”

“We’ve already discussed this,” Alb reminded him. “That wouldn’t do any good – it would just reduce the number of Bedohls we have, and waste my time. We won’t solve anything with force.”

“Tell that to the mage!” said Sloan, laughing bitterly.

Valm interrupted. “Alb, you seem to enjoy your research on the Bedohls. But we have to have these mechanical ones as soon as possible: we need reinforcements. We need fighters that will sustain themselves as long as our enemies are around. We have to protect the summoners and the Aeons’ Souls at all costs.”

Kush was on the verge of tears; she got this way any time the future was discussed.

Fixing his gaze on his brother’s body, Sloan spoke firmly. “Let’s search the island again. There might still be enemies out there.”

Chapter Seven

The Celsius had landed on Besaid, at the mouth of the inlet. As soon as Wakka boarded, he was greeted by the sound of an argument coming from the bridge. They were all there – Brother, Paine, Rikku, Buddy, and Shinra – but he had no idea what they were saying. Even Rikku, who normally took care to translate, wasn’t holding herself back from getting involved in the yelling.

“It seems like the fuselage is damaged,” Paine eventually explained.

“So you can’t fly?”

“That’s right,” she said. “We don’t know why – and we know even less about how to repair it. If we’d kept going on to Luca, we could have asked some other Al Bhed; coming back here was a mistake. That’s why they’re arguing. It’s no more interesting than that, trust me.”

“Why did you come back?” said Wakka.

“To warn you about the storm.”

“Didn’t you try the CommSphere?”

“The one on the island was already broken,” said Shinra. “And now ours is as well.”

“Oh,” said Wakka, “couldn’t you have said that earlier? That’s why I came here – to use yours. Yuna’s gone!”

Everyone suddenly fell silent.

Mouth hanging open, Brother looked at Wakka in shock. “Yuna is gone?” he demanded.

“Yeah. She and Tidus went off on a ship. We thought they were round the other side of the island, but …”

Brother let out a long scream.

Ignoring him, Rikku looked through the porthole. “The sea’s really rough,” she murmured.

Chapter Eight

The Auroch Ace was gently rocking in the waves. Tidus didn’t know how much time had passed since the two of them had left the tiller; the same thick clouds still covered the moon and the stars.

Lying on his right side, he was letting his mind wander. On the settee on the other side of the table, Yuna’s white hood could be distinguished in the darkness.

Tidus could hear steady breathing behind him. He had turned around a few moments earlier and looked at Yuna lying there: she was on her side, her hands clasped together, one cheek resting against them. Knees tucked in towards her chest, she was sleeping. Her face was only a few centimetres from the back of Tidus’ neck.

In the darkness, Tidus had lost track of time. Since he had returned to Besaid, none of his friends had succeeded in assuaging his anxieties despite the long conversations he had had with them; but just one brief moment with Yuna had been enough. He was happy, and he wanted to savour it.

But doubt was gradually starting to return to him. He felt it like a physical ache, making his muscles stiffen and his stomach tense: it was guilt.

Yuna stirred; he closed his eyes. She’s watching me.

After a while, Yuna stood; she climbed over Tidus, taking great care not to touch him. He heard her moving between the bed and the table, picking up her clothes from the floor and putting them on.

The boat suddenly pitched violently; Tidus opened his eyes, and met Yuna’s gaze.

“Sorry,” she said. “Did I wake you? I’ll be right back.”

She smiled and leant towards him for a brief kiss. Tidus felt himself blushing; he resolved to cast his doubts aside. There was no justification for them. He got up too, and followed Yuna’s white robe into the passageway.

He was halfway up the stairs when he heard a loud crash above him. “Yuna!” he exclaimed, before bounding up the remaining steps two at a time. Yuna was clinging onto the tiller, firm on her feet, looking into the distance.

“I can’t see anything,” she murmured.

“What was that noise?” Tidus asked urgently. “Did you hit your head?”

She let out an embarrassed laugh, and turned towards him, sweeping a lock of hair away from her bruised forehead.

“It’s not funny!” said Tidus. “You don’t have to brush it off. It’s OK to say if something’s wrong – if you get hurt, or you’re worried … you can talk to me about it. I’m here for you.”

“OK,” she said.

“That’s why I came back,” he added.

“I see. You know, we won’t be able to whistle anymore.”

“Huh?” said Tidus.

“To call each other. If we’re together all the time …”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

He drew closer to her, but suddenly, Yuna stiffened and drew back.

“Sorry,” she said, “but we should talk.”

“Oh,” said Tidus. He suddenly felt awkward, and went to stand next to the window to hide it. Outside, it was pitch-dark. Only the foam on the waves was visible.

“The older islanders have been asking me to tell them what happened on the pilgrimage,” said Yuna, “for a long time. You know, everything that happened in Bevelle, and Zanarkand: learning Grand Maester Mika was unsent, and that he wasn’t interested in the good of Spira but just in making sure people continued to worship Yevon – and that the way the temples taught us to defeat Sin was just a way of bringing it back …”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t say anything about it for a long time,” she went on. “I didn’t tell them the role I played in all this, not in detail. I didn’t explain how I defeated Sin for good, and how I realised the teachings were just a web of lies, and that the temples were doing more harm than good. I haven’t talked about that – not to most people, anyway.”

“It could be pretty shocking for them,” said Tidus.

“Yes. Some of them might have blamed me. Or even hated me.”

“I guess.”

“That’s why,” she said, “after the Grand Maester was gone and people started looking for the truth,⁵ the Yevonite clergy formed New Yevon, with Baralai as the leader. Oh, but you don’t know – Baralai is –”

“Rikku and the others told me,” said Tidus. “He’s … friends with Nooj and Gippal?”

“Yes, that’s it. Where was I?”

“I don’t know,” said Tidus impatiently. “What were you trying to say?”

“I was silent while it was all happening, because I was worried,” said Yuna. “But the old ladies really wanted to know. They begged me, cried, they said I was being self-centred. Not telling the truth because you’re afraid of what other people will think – that’s vain, you see. They told me they’d understand if I explained it to them, and that even if they didn’t, it wouldn’t matter …”

“So tell them then!” said Tidus. “Tell them about the trick Mika was playing, keeping all the machina for himself. Tell them what that bastard Seymour did –”

“I did,” said Yuna. “It took time, but – I told them everything.”

“And?”

“They let me tell the story, and they didn’t interrupt.”

“Well, that’s good!” Tidus didn’t understand where this conversation was going.

“No,” said Yuna, “it’s not good.”

“Huh?”

“Well,” she said, “once I was done, they said, ‘Now who are we going to trust to guide us?’”

“They’ve just gotta decide for themselves,” Tidus suggested.

“They asked me if they should abandon the teachings.”

“Well, of course they should! It was all lies.”

Yuna lowered her eyes and shook her head.

“What?” said Tidus incredulously.

“I was brought up with the teachings too,” Yuna explained. “And of course there are lies in there – awful lies – but the rest of it isn’t so bad. After all, I had a happy life, and I met you.”

“Yuna!” he gasped. Surely she wasn’t going to suggest all that had been a blessing of Yevon?

“If the old ladies want to believe it,” said Yuna, “what’s wrong with that? If they decide for themselves, and that’s what’s best for them, what’s the problem?”

She was using Tidus’ words against him; he was enjoying this conversation less and less. “I guess you’re right,” he admitted.

“So,” she said, “I’ll have to go back tomorrow.”

“Uh, sorry?”

“I promised I’d go back to them so we could come up with a new prayer together.”

“Why do they need you?”

“I’m the one who took their faith away.”

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough already?” said Tidus.

“That’s not a reason to stand by and do nothing,” Yuna argued.

“Yuna …” said Tidus. He looked at the blue tasselled earring that hung from her ear. Yuna hadn’t been wearing it in the cabin; when had she put it back on? She had always worn it, ever since Tidus had first met her, but the colour had never faded.

“Yes?” she prompted him.

I’m the only one who’s changed, he thought. “No, it’s OK,” he said out loud. “I get it. Let’s get back to the village – we just need to work out which way it is.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Suddenly, Tidus felt to blame for manipulating her into making her feel she had to apologise. His bad mood wasn’t because of what she’d said; it was because she’d denied him a kiss when he approached her. “It’s my fault,” he said, turning away to hide his discomfort.

“I noticed earlier,” said Yuna firmly, “that we’re not very good at apologising to each other. We travelled together all those weeks, all over Spira: we climbed Mount Gagazet, we fought Sin and Yu Yveon – and then, for more than two years, we were apart. No letters, no news – but our feelings just grew stronger. And this morning, we were reunited – now, I know who I am, and who you are. I know we can make the effort to understand each other. Do you hear me?”

“Of course,” he said.

“When we met,” she went on, “I was seventeen, and I fell madly in love with you. And now that we’re together again …” She drew her feet together, her cheeks reddening with emotion. “Now we’re going to have to face each day together. Don’t misunderstand me: I love you, and I never want to leave you.”

“Oh …” said Tidus.

“‘Oh’?” she prompted him.

“I love you too,” he said.

“Well, that’s good!” said Yuna. She was about to add something else, but decided not to, turning away instead and pulling the levers on the console next to the tiller. For a few seconds, there was silence, apart from the sounds of the buttons Yuna was pressing.

“I think there may be a problem,” she said eventually. “I’m having trouble with the radar. I can’t work out where we are.”

A moment later, they realised the radio wasn’t working either.

Chapter Nine

The storm raged over Besaid all night. At dawn, the front moved north, leaving the shore covered in algae, dark gulfweed and bright red wrack. The islanders emerged to carefully comb the beach for any debris dislodged by the sea; each time someone found something, they signalled it with a shout, and Wakka or one of the other Aurochs came to check whether it was a piece of the Ace. Everything they found was piled up near the jetty and added to a bonfire. The smoke from the wet wood would perhaps indicate to Yuna and Tidus where the island was.

There was no other possible way of communication. According to the Al Bhed, everything had broken at the same time because it had all been found at the same depth of the Bikanel desert. Wakka hadn’t shared this theory with the rest of the islanders; he suspected it would cause them to lose faith in the Al Bhed altogether.

Briar’s gaze was fixed on the sea. He had been the last person to speak to Tidus the previous night.

“It’s not your fault, ya,” Wakka reminded him. “The storm’s over – if the boat’s still in one piece, they’ll come back. And if not, they’ll find some piece of wood to hold onto. Tidus is strong – as long as they’re together, Yuna’ll make it too.”

Nervously, Briar replied, “There’s no point relying on false hope. If they’re in the water, their body temperature will plummet, and –”

“Hey,” Wakka interrupted, “I’m trying to look on the bright side here!”

Briar gave him a weak smile.

Wakka looked over at the Celsius. “If only we could make that thing fly,” he sighed. If they managed it, they’d be able to search for the missing couple from the sky. But according to Shinra, it was impossible to repair the damage.

Suddenly, Briar laughed.

“What’s so funny?” said Wakka, not amused.

“This situation,” said Briar. “We depend on machines that work less and less well, and yet we’re incapable of fixing them. It’s the desecration of Spira – before you know it, Sin will be back.”

“Are you talking about the Al Bhed?” Wakka demanded. “That’s taking things too far!”

“So you’re not relieved that this machina isn’t working? That you can’t go and look for Yuna? After all, you’ve tried everything: you’ve searched the beach, collected the wood, lit the fire – you can’t do anything else, can you? If she still can’t be found, that’s fate. It’s nobody’s fault; you haven’t done anything wrong. You’re preparing yourself for the bad news, and telling yourself there was nothing you could have done, aren’t you?”

“That’s not – you can’t –” Wakka protested. “I’ve been like a big brother to her since she was seven! That’s out of line!”

“Then get moving,” said Briar.

“Yeah, but – how?” Wakka shook his head desparately. Then, struck by inspiration, he jumped onto the jetty.

“We gotta do more to find Yuna!” he called out, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Anyone got an idea?”

“Fix our remaining boat as fast as we can,” an old man suggested, not looking up from where he was working on that very task.

“The ship from Kilika will arrive soon,” one of the villagers pointed out. “We could ask the captain to look for Yuna. If he refuses, we could ask the fishermen from Kilika Port.”

“But where should we start looking?” another said. “The ocean’s so big.”

“The storm went from the south to the north,” said Briar. “You all know the currents around this island – you can put that to good use.”

Wakka caught Briar’s eye in silent agreement, and then nodded towards the airship. “I know a guy who can do maths like that,” he said. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“Does anyone have a tide chart for the area?” Briar suggested.

Letty ran off towards the village to look for one; as if that was the signal everyone had been waiting for, they all got back to their tasks with vigour.

“You’re good at putting people to work,” a voice behind Briar murmured.

He turned around; it was Lulu.

“It wasn’t just me,” he explained. “Wakka was the one who motivated them. Most of them will do what he asks them – I think he’s just found out that he’s more respected than he thought.”

Lulu turned to look at her husband, who had advanced into the sea to the point that it was up to his waist. He was starting to swim, making his way towards the Celsius, which was moored on the sandbanks opposite the beach. She inclined her head. “It’s been a month since you came to join us, Briar.”

“That’s right.”

“Perhaps it’s time to tell us why New Yevon sent you here,” she said.

“I’m in administration,” said Briar. “There have been thefts from a number of temples. When we discovered them, we decided to check the accounts – that’s why I’m here. They’ll probably dispatch me to another post soon, but until then, I have every intention of continuing as I’ve been doing so far: participating in the chores, helping the older people, that kind of thing.”

“Are you concerned about your image?” Lulu asked, wearing her most charming smile.

Briar looked back at her suspiciously.

“Do you remember your predecessor?” she went on. “He was reported missing.”

“Yes,” said Briar. “I met him when I took up my post here.”

“There are people who say they’ve seen him near the ruins,” said Lulu. “Apparently, he’s turned into a fiend.”

“Really?”

“They say he’s always wailing, and if you listen carefully, you can understand what he’s saying: ‘Briar, Briar, Briar …’”

“They must have misheard,” said Briar. “People often imagine things when they come across dangerous fiends.”

“Perhaps,” she said.

“Who says they’ve seen this fiend?” he asked.

“Me.”

They exchanged uneasy smiles.

Suddenly, they were disrupted by a loud shout from the direction of the sea: it was Wakka, treading water near the Celsius, with only his head visible. Briar waved back at him, and Wakka raised his arms out of the water, drawing them into a cross shape. Then, he seized an object floating by his side and waved it above his head. It was a piece of wood that had been painted yellow. Immediately, shouts of distress rose from the beach: everyone had recognised it. It was the false blitzball trophy that served as figurehead for the Auroch Ace.

Chapter Ten

It was almost midday: Valm could tell by the length of his shadow. Standing on a ventilation duct, he was taking advantage of its height to look down at his comrades gathered below. There were ninety-five of them: sixty-three men and thirty-two women, whose ages ranged from sixteen to twenty-five. Valm was twenty-three.

“Look at them all,” said Sloan, who was the oldest. “How serious they all look! It’s great.”

“Yes,” said Valm. “But what are we doing about lunch?” His stomach was making itself known to him with a loud rumbling, for the second time in just a few minutes: he hadn’t eaten anything since the explosion the night before.

“That’s really what you’re worried about?” Sloan muttered.

Remembering his friend had just said farewell to his little brother, Valm lowered his head, and murmured, “Sorry.”

With a bitter laugh, Sloan clapped a hand against Valm’s shoulder. “Nothing to be ashamed of,” he said. “Go and find something to eat, and come back when you’ve finished.”

After saying those words, Sloan went to see the guards, intending to thank them for their sympathies and their declarations that they would seek to avenge his brother’s death. He kept his head bowed for a long time, but when he raised it, he found his feelings had changed completely.

“We can’t afford to lose any more summoners,” he said. “There are only two left – what’ll we do if we can’t protect them?”

There had been five of them on the island to begin with. Six months ago, the guards had failed to protect Mikka and Kanela – and this morning, Anli. Now only Kush and Ifahnal were left.

Bevelle was still producing machina weapons, and the city seemed to have reached its peak in terms of technical prowess. Armoured units and heavy infantry were constantly assaulting Zanarkand, destroying everything in their way. Day after day, the guards heard about the progress they were making. But what the mages of Zanarkand both feared the most, both father and daughter, wasn’t the workers’ efforts: it was the individuals who had the same abilities as them. The summoners. And so they were constantly sending assassins to the island. To date, twenty-eight guards had been killed in combat.

“Let’s form two brigades,” Sloan ordered them. “Ten to each row.”

They immediately obeyed.

“Rows one to eight: you’ll be scouting, under my orders. Kat, draw up the units!”

The guard he had commanded, standing in the front row, drew herself up. “Sir!” she replied confidently.

“Rows nine and ten,” Sloan went on, “you’re defending the base. Once you join our ten comrades already there, Valm will take command. Your priority is to protect the summoners. Let’s go!”

“I see,” Valm murmured. He jumped down from where he had been observing them and approached his men. “We’re going straight to the base: stay vigilant while we head there. Take the enemy out if you see them: women, children, just do it. Let’s not repeat our past mistakes.”

“Sir!” the fifteen guards replied in unison.

Once, a young boy had arrived on the island. Taking him for a refugee, he had been welcomed into the guards’ canteen; but there, the boy had blown himself up. That had been the cause of the summoner Mikka’s death.

Valm and his comrades had had to gather Mikka’s remains, which the bomb had dispersed; when he remembered what had happened, he felt intense anger, and couldn’t resist addressing the goddess of war in his mind. His violent thoughts hid his true feelings: that he was relieved it had been Mikka, not Kush.

Back at the base, he sent a subordinate to fetch him some food, which he ate while patrolling in front of Gate 0. Depending on how the situation evolved, he would see if he needed to lock it. He ordered the young guards Gekkoh and Romand to set up videospheres around Gates 1 to 5.

Framed by large rocks, Gate 0 was protected from bombs. To hide it, false vegetation covered a network of steel tubes. As long as one didn’t get too close, it looked like a section of the forest like any other. To reach the gate, one had to pass under the tubes. As for the other gates, they were scattered around the island, at the furthest points of the underground ventilation shafts. From the outside, they took different forms so they could be camouflaged in the landscape; on the inside, they all had the same structure. The ventilation turbine, controlled remotely, was the main reason for the existence of each of these passageways, but its rotating paddles had sharp blades attached that guarded against invaders. When guards needed to pass through, they would need to supply a secret code at a control panel before they could enter through the propeller. The codes were changed every day.

Entering through Gate 0, Valm made his way to the ceremony room. It was big enough to house everyone stationed on the island, except the Bedohls. Stone statues of the gods were arranged at the sides. Their expressions were blank, but their gazes met at the centre of the room, where the altar was located. In this room, baptisms and weddings were held as well as business meetings. Behind the altar, a long flight of stairs led to Inner Door 0 and to the living quarters. Exits 1 and 2 were under the stairs.

Valm began to head up the stairs. At the same moment, Gate 1 opened; Kush was passing through. The corridor she had entered led to the armoury, and to the Bedohls’ quarters: their workshop, and their living area. Lower down still was where the machines were kept. What could Kush be doing, going somewhere so filthy? She was perfectly entitled to do so, but …

Just as Valm opened his mouth to call her, a hand grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her abruptly back.

Valm started heading towards her as quickly as he could, but she had already reappeared behind the gate; she was vigorously rubbing her lips with her gloved right hand. As soon as she realised Valm was there, she stopped.

“Is everything OK?” he asked.

She avoided his gaze, saying nothing. That was when Valm saw the person who had grabbed her: Ifahnal.

He was a young summoner, eighteen years old: a year younger than Kush. Despite not taking part in battle or menial work, he was impressively muscled anyway, and made a point of emphasising this by wearing tight clothing. His face was unremarkable, though, the kind that was easily forgotten, and he must have known it because of the efforts he went to with the rest of his appearance: his muscles, his clothing, and the way he dyed his hair red. They were all ways of compensating for his face. But this attention to his appearance meant the guards disliked him. Even the god whom he had named himself after – Ifahnal, the god of beauty – meant he was the object of criticism and mockery. Hardly anyone respected him. Valm often thought he would do well to present himself more humbly.

Despite all that, he was one of the most important people on the island, and nearly a hundred guards had sworn to protect him at the cost of their lives. There was surely nothing more he could want.

What Valm had just seen put Ifahnal’s behaviour in a new light. The young summoner wasn’t at all interested in winning the guards’ respect: only Kush counted for him. And it seemed as if she didn’t respect him either. Valm would make sure that remained the case.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “We’re in a serious situation – this is no time for quarrels. If you have a problem, you’d better sort it out quickly.”

Ifahnal ignored the question. “The mechanical Bedohl’s ready,” he said.

It was clearly a way of changing the subject and avoiding the argument, but Valm had to respond to the news. “Good,” he said.

Ifahnal smiled. “It’s learnt my voice,” he said. “Do you want me to call it? Armoured Bedohl, come out here!”

The boy seemed so proud that it was as if he had created this fake Bedohl himself. As for Kush, she had moved to stand behind Valm, as if she wanted to hide. As if to be as far from Ifahnal as possible.

The Bedohl appeared. It was the same height as Kush, two heads shorter than Valm. Dressed in dull yellow cotton, its head was covered with a hood, and its face hidden by goggles and a gas mask. From this first impression, it certainly didn’t seem capable of fighting and taking down enemies.

“Is that it?” Valm asked.

“That’s it,” said Alb, who had climbed the stairs behind his creation. “It’s not perfect yet, but …”

Despite his words, Alb was beaming with pride. Out of the corner of his eye, Valm saw Ifahnal slipping away with a smirk; he decided to forget about him, and concentrate on the fake Bedohl. He would talk to the summoner later.

“It doesn’t look very strong,” he said. “Can it fight?” He drew his sabre, and the Bedohl flinched away.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Valm asked it.

The machine nodded.

“Just as ordered,” said Alb, his chest swelling proudly.

“Then draw your weapon!” Valm commanded.

The fake Bedohl produced a whip, beginning to brandish it. The ends of its cords traced haphazardly through the air. Alb’s creation was clearly in no state to enter combat. Valm supposed the discussion they had had in the morning had incited Alb to unveil his creation before it was ready.

He doesn’t understand, he thought bitterly. We don’t want these things to follow our order just for the pleasure of seeing them obey. We need an effective weapon.

“This is ridiculous,” he said out loud.

With a stroke of his sabre, he cut off the hand that held the whip. Blood gushed forth from the stump.

Alb grabbed the fake Bedohl by the elbow, pulling it sharply backwards.

“I’ll take it back to the workshop,” he said. “The finished products will wield firearms. That’s the problem with chains and whips: you have to be aware of the space you’re operating in to use them well.”

“They’ll never be precise enough to aim properly,” said Valm. “I’d prefer it if they used projectiles. And the blood – is that really necessary?” There was a crimson pool on the ground in front of him.

“It’s a trick,” said Alb, “to fool the enemy. I bet you thought it was really alive for a moment, didn’t you?”

“How many can you make?” Valm asked.

“Fifty units in three days. Maybe more.”

Valm was pleasantly surprised by the number.

“We haven’t been slacking off down there, you know,” Alb added snidely. He sounded a little annoyed.

“Call them ‘worker Bedohls’,” said Valm. “And get rid of the blood, or change the colour at least, otherwise it won’t just be the enemies you fool. I don’t want our men thinking a comrade has been injured and taking pointless risks. They have to seem like humans from far away, but there’s no point maintaining the illusion up close.” He was starting to realise the ultimate soldier he longed for was an impossible dream; for now, he would need to be happy with these fake Bedohls and their realistic blood.

“Tell us what’s happening outside, Valm,” said Kush. “Are there enemies out there?”

“I think so,” he said. “But Sloan and his men will sniff them out. He’ll honour his name to avenge his brother.”

Sloan had taken his name from the god of vengeance.

“So we’re safe,” she said.

“For now. But you ought to hide in one of the shelters. Tell Ifahnal – no, I’ll tell him myself.”

They climbed the stairs to Inner Door 0 and the living quarters in awkward silence. “Did something happen with Ifahnal?” Valm asked eventually.

“Yes,” she said, “but nothing to worry about. I’ll sort it out with him. I’m just thinking about how so many summoners have died – it would be best if they send more to replace them, but do you think that’ll happen?”

A ship was supposed to be calling at the island a week later to replenish supplies; but even if there were personnel on board to ensure its safety, Valm doubted they would be happy to stay on the island to compensate for their losses. After all, their commanders were aware of the situation and hadn’t announced anything.

“Reinforcements?” he said. “I don’t think so. The rumours say there are more and more people trying to hide the fact that they have the summoner’s gift.”

“They’ll go to hell,” she said, her voice light, and he could tell she wanted to change the subject. “Say, Valm, what would happen if they sent a new lady summoner? A sweet, passionate woman, with a lovely figure …”

“There’d be no lack of guards volunteering to be her Aeon’s Soul,” said Valm.

“Men are so simple!” Kush replied, sighing dramatically.

Kush was the name of the goddess of plenty. The summoner who had taken her name was slight: like Ifahnal and his personal grooming, she was often the object of mockery.

“That’s true,” Valm replied. “And that’s why you’ll always be mine.”

Chapter Eleven

It was the middle of the night. The Ace was pitching so violently that Tidus and Yuna were having enormous trouble keeping their balance; they had taken the bedclothes and fashioned them into a rope to attach the two of them together.

Standing by the porthole, Tidus was trying fruitlessly to see out. With Yuna’s assurances, he ventured onto the outer deck; as the rain lashed against his face, he squinted into the darkness, but was unable to make out anything. He felt the cord around his waist tighten, and turned around; Yuna wanted him to come back inside.

“I couldn’t see anything,” he explained, once he had returned, dripping with rain and seawater.

“We’ll have to wait until the storm calms down,” Yuna replied. “It’ll be dawn in a few hours, so we can get our bearings and –” She broke off with a grimace. Working out which way was north would be one thing, but finding the way back to Besaid was quite another.

“Maybe we’ll see the island too,” she said eventually. “Don’t worry – I’m sure our friends are looking for us too. The Gullwings will find us in no time, with the airship.”

“You’re calm,” said Tidus.

“Well,” she said, “I know it may not seem like it, but I did grow up on an island! And it’s not as if I haven’t had frightening experiences before.”

“You sound like an old woman,” Tidus scolded her, grinning.

She pouted back. “Oh, how awful!”

They made eye contact and smiled.

“I really think it’ll all be OK,” Yuna insisted.

“You mean,” said Tidus, “despite everything?”

Suddenly, the ship plunged between two waves; Tidus’ stomach lurched, and Yuna closed her eyes. As Tidus tried to move towards her, the hull of the Ace creaked with an almost human groaning sound, and he was thrown off balance, hitting his head against the porthole. For a moment, he could smell gunpowder; then he lost consciousness.

When he came to, day had broken. There was no more wind, and not even a single cloud; and neither was there any trace of the ship. All that remained of the Ace was a single plank of wood, barely large enough to bear the weight of one person: Tidus was lying on it.

“Stay where you are,” a voice whispered. “Don’t move.”

It was Yuna: she was right behind him, submerged in the water from her chest down as she faced the other way, towards a huge fiend that resembled an enormous tortoise. Its head and most of its shell protruded from above the water’s surface; glassy-eyed, it smelt faintly of rotting meat.

“Yuna,” Tidus mumbled.

She turned around, and he saw her face: it was haggard, and there were dark shadows under her eyes.

How long has she been guarding me like this?

The fiend wasn’t moving; Tidus wondered whether Yuna had managed to subdue it. Eventually, he noticed a staff – no, a trident, broken, stuck into the fiend’s neck. He could imagine the sort of fight Yuna must have had to engage in to take it down – and all that time, he had been nothing more than baggage weighing her down.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She smiled weakly; her eyes closed, and her head began to droop.

“Yuna?”

Gracefully, Yuna sank into the water; the fiend bent its head below the surface as if to follow her. Tidus sat up cautiously, being careful not to overbalance on the plank; then he tugged the cord that was still attached to his waist. Immediately, Yuna resurfaced, and as quickly as he could, he pulled her in towards him before taking her in his arms and holding her close.

The fiend was still following; it was getting close, and they wouldn’t be able to relax for long. Tidus looked at its vacant eyes, its huge, shining teeth, and the large red tongue behind them; he was aware of the feeling of Yuna’s body in his arms, so delicate that he thought he might damage her. The sensation reminded him of the happy occasion two years earlier when they had had their first kiss, in Macalania Lake. The young woman he was holding now was the same one he had held there, in the water; the memory suddenly made him feel incredibly moved.

“I’ll never forgive you!” he shouted – to whom? The fiend? Himself? He had no idea. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her!”

He stood carefully, trying to untie the cord around his waist; while he was struggling with the wet bedsheets, the fiend continued to approach, placing its chin on the plank. At this rate, Tidus and Yuna would soon be tipped into the water. Giving up on undoing the knot, Tidus jumped onto the fiend’s back and knelt on all fours; he turned back to face its neck, and pulled out the half of the trident lodged there, raising it as high as he could. Then, with all his strength, he drove it into the fiend’s head. It went all the way in; straight away, the fiend’s chin slid off the plank and fell back into the water. After that, the fiend was motionless.

There was a nauseating smell, and a foul liquid started to spread from the wound and into the water.

We shouldn’t stay here, Tidus thought as he watched it trickle out.

Then, another creature surfaced: a shark, its body covered with hard scales. It leapt over Tidus and Yuna, diving back into the water on the other side of the large fiend’s corpse. Tidus heard a sharp whistling sound, and understood: it was calling its packmates. As if to confirm his realisation, several animals of the same type appeared immediately, converging on the head of the dead fiend and starting to rip it to pieces.

Still on the fiend’s back, Tidus had no choice but to watch. He was desperate to get Yuna away from this savage feast as soon as he could, but there was no question of going near the water for the moment. He wondered if they would be stuck where they were.

Move it or lose it.

He pulled the trident out once again, moving back towards the plank where he had left Yuna, who was unaware of what was going on. Wrapping the cord around his waist, he did his best to fasten Yuna to his back, which turned out to be difficult on their makeshift raft. He wondered whether staying on the corpse’s back might have been the best option after all, but, with the utmost care, he headed for the edge of the plank and took a deep breath before leaping across once again. But this time, carrying Yuna, he had failed to take into account the difference in weight; instead of landing on the fiend’s back, they fell back into the water.

Tidus felt himself being tugged downwards; it took him a moment to understand what was happening. Then he remembered the cord that still tied him to Yuna; it had become wrapped around one of the sharks, which was pulling the two of them under the water. The animal made a sharp turn and started heading back towards the corpse; Tidus took the opportunity to let himself sink down, hoping that would allow Yuna to rise back towards the surface. Without paying the slightest attention to its unwilling passengers, the shark went back to its meal; Tidus moved around it, hoping the others didn’t notice him and Yuna. Taking hold of her, he swam to the surface, and then wrapped the cord around the shark’s dorsal fin: the first part of his plan had been successful. The next stage was to climb onto its back; he wondered how it would react, not knowing enough about the species to guess.

Mounting the shark turned out to be difficult; the animal struggled, but seemed too interested in its meal to attack properly. On its back at last, Tidus gripped the dorsal fin to keep himself steady; now it was time to bring Yuna up beside him. He tugged the cord to pull her closer, but despite his efforts, had no success in getting her onto the shark’s back. She would need to climb up herself.

“Yuna?” he said. “Yuna, can you hear me? I’ll get us out of here, don’t worry. But you need to wake up.”

Another shark burst out of the water, close to Yuna; it leapt above them with a long whistling sound. In a flash of inspiration. Tidus raised two fingers to his mouth and imitated the noise; it was so loud that Yuna awoke with a start.

“Tidus?” she said. “Where are you?”

“I’m here, beside you,” he said.

She lifted her head and met his gaze. “What’s happening?”

“There are fiends around us,” he explained, “and I’m trying to take control of this thing. Don’t worry, it won’t be long – we’re not gonna end up some shark’s lunch.”

Yuna sighed, and let him get on with it.

---

Once the shark had eaten its fill, it moved away from the carcass, swimming at a leisurely pace just below the water’s surface.

“I wonder where it’s taking us,” said Tidus.

“I wish it’d go that way,” said Yuna, pointing at something on the horizon.

Tidus squinted. “Besaid?”

“I don’t know,” said Yuna, “but any island would be better than being on a shark’s back.”

“We’re going the wrong way for it, though,” said Tidus. “It’ll be out of sight soon.”

The shark was moving quickly; it was three times Tidus’ size, and the weight of its two passengers didn’t seem to be slowing it down at all.

“Hey!” Tidus shouted. Of course, the shark took no notice. “Well,” he said, “I guess I have no choice.”

Transferring the trident to his left hand, he struck it against what he imagined might be the shark’s cheek. “Don’t go under!” he warned it; if the shark went too deep, he would need to strike it again from underneath, and he wasn’t keen to spill blood into the water again after the first time. On top of that, it would mean having to dive down himself to swim alongside the animal, which would be difficult to keep up with; and if they went really deep, there would be the increase in pressure to contend with as well.

The shark quivered, but it turned out to follow Tidus’ order, turning right towards the island.

“Forgive us,” said Yuna.

Tidus didn’t feel as if there was anything to be forgiven: sharks only knew one rule, and that was eat or be eaten. All the creatures in Spira were like that, and he was only following the same principle himself so he could survive in this merciless world. Any threat had to be treated harshly; everyone in Spira knew that, living in such tough conditions. Among them, Yuna was a rare specimen – nobody else would have asked an animal like this for forgiveness.

He turned back to look at her; she was lying on her stomach on the shark’s back, gripping it tightly with her arms and legs. It reminded him of when she had first summoned her first aeon, Valefor: at the time, he hadn’t known whether it was a fiend or a wild beast, but had understood that if Yuna was able to master such a powerful creature, his journey with her would be anything but normal.

Suddenly, another thought warmed his heart: normality with Yuna was something he did know, better than anyone. Many people were familiar with her public image: a young woman who was serious and determined, perhaps even stubborn. But nobody knows her like I do.

“What are you thinking about?” Yuna asked him.

“Why do you ask?”

“You’re smiling.”

“Really?” he said. “I guess I’m just so tired, it’s making the muscles in my face contract.”

He looked towards the island; it was close enough now for him to make out the hill in the centre, and the grass covering the landscape. Whether or not it was Besaid, they would be able to find things to eat and drink there; he laughed a little with relief.

“What?” said Yuna.

“Nothing.”

“You’re being so secretive!” she protested, with a gentle laugh of her own.

---

¹

Yes, the French version did make specific reference to her breasts, but I just couldn’t, I’m sorry.

²

The French version talks about a “Movement for Truth” with capitals as if this is the name of an organisation. I assume this is a mistranslation, as there’s nothing of that name in the game.

³

This is “Rash” in the French, but I haven’t been able to work out who this is. Vilucha seems a good substitute, as she lives in Besaid village and plays for the Aurochs in FFX-2.

⁴

“Bria” in the French. I’m taking liberties here because Briar is a nice name and I like him.

⁵

In the French, this is another reference to the “Movement for Truth”.