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Seishuku Skuld Author Pairing Rating Subject


Saidan no Hitsuji
Chapter Eight: Zue Zhan (The Decisive Battle)

By Seishuku Skuld (skuldsai@magicgirl.com)

Wow, I added another chapter!
I just had to end chapter seven with Auron being all broken, so I made another chapter for the battle with Sin.

Here's one of the parts that makes my fic a deathfic!
**sniffles**

Depressing stuff:
Dir En Grey: Ain't Afraid to Die
Linkin Park: Crawling
Gackt: Sayonara

Saidan no Hitsuji Part 8

Braska and I somehow made our way out of the Zanarkand dome that night. By the time we reached the ruined city outside, the edge of the sky was already turning a soft pink, the sun beginning to rise.

I felt utterly desolate as I sunk to my knees at the sight of the sun. There were only two who left Zanarkand, when three had arrived mere hours before. This was the beginning of my life without Jecht. Or whatever salvageable pieces were left of it. I couldn't imagine going onwards without him. Life seemed so empty without Jecht and Braska. While the rest of Spira thrived on the Calm, I'd be slowly dying, suffocated by emptiness.

There were no more tears that day, I'd cried until there was nothing left inside me. I went on because of Braska, because I had to get him to the Calm Lands where he would fight Sin. There I would be able to see Jecht once more before he became Sin. It was a horrible sinking feeling that the only person I had left holding me up, was going to die as well.

I struggled to my feet, my body wanting collapse, but my mind refusing. It was true, both Braska and I needed rest, but this was no place for the living to sleep.

"Lord Braska, let's go, we're getting out of here," I said, my throat dry from last night. We made our way slowly down the winding, cracked path we came from until we reached the outskirts of the city, where we had taken our small break last evening. This would do for now.

"You need some rest," I told Braska. He looked weary enough, and I wondered which one of us looked the worse at the moment. We both probably looked like hell. Braska sat down on the ground, not bothering with blankets or anything.

"You're going to get your robes dusty," I remarked as I sat down beside him.

"I'm too exhausted to care, Auron," he sighed, collapsing to the ground and shielding his eyes from the rising sun. Weariness stole upon both us as we lie on the ground, our minds drifting off to sleep. I put a reassuring arm around Braska as he slept. I would get him to the Calm Lands as Jecht had asked me to. I had to make sure his death was not in vain, that Braska would defeat Sin and bring the Calm. Then after that...I didn't know what to do. I promised Braska to bring Yuna to Besaid, and that I would do. As for Jecht's promise, to go Zanarkand and look after his son? I had no idea how to get to Zanarkand. Jecht claimed he had arrived here by Sin, but how was I supposed to...

I sighed, my mind sinking into oblivion. Sleep was painless and I let myself go and drifted into dreams. The last thing I remembered before I fell asleep was Braska's whispered voice.

"Auron, I'm so sorry."

****
Braska and I traveled slowly back the way we came, through Gagazet. The snows of the mountain seemed more impossible than before. Without Jecht's casual talk, the slopes seemed unconquerable as we plodded through the blizzard. Braska walked doggedly forward, though it seemed to me he was about to drop from exhaustion at any moment.

I knew what he was thinking, he was going to meet Sin and bring the Calm. For a few years at least. He had come all this way, and he wanted to fight Sin as soon as possible. He wanted the Calm, he wanted Spira's happiness. He tried not to think about the price he had paid. He tried not to think about the futility of his actions, the futility of his sacrifice. He knew that Sin would come back, he knew that Sin could not be destroyed. Yunalesca had told us as much.

He would destroy grief and suffering, as he had said, but only for a short time. Then, when Sin returned, it would be Jecht, his friend, his Final Aeon who would be covering Spira in sorrow again.

Crossing Gagazet had taken nearly twice as long as I had the first time. We were both fatigued and when we stopped for the night, found a cave and curled up next to each other, it would not be until the sun was high in the sky the next day before we awoke again. We rarely spoke as we traveled, each knowing the others' thoughts.

I tried to hide my loneliness from Braska. I didn't want him to bear another burden. I didn't want to show him how much it hurt to lose Jecht, I didn't want to show him how much the blitzball player had meant to me. He had given his life willingly for Braska, and that's all Braska need to know.

We finally reached the base of Gagazet the third day after leaving Zanarkand. The Ronso were waiting for us as we descended, they gathered in a group at the entrance to the mountain.

"Have you obtained the Final Aeon?" their leader asked.

Braska nodded, "yes," he said quietly, wearily. He couldn't bring himself to tell them what had happened. There had been too much hurt. Yunalesca had shattered our beliefs, had shaken our very foundations. We didn't know what to believe anymore. And until we sorted ourselves out, we would say nothing to the Ronso. They probably wouldn't believe us. Nobody in Spira would believe us. The teachings of Yevon were too much a part of them.

The Ronso were kind and spiritual, tough warriors as well. They offered Braska and I their hospitality. I could see a quiet sort of rejoicing from them, they did all they could for the High Summoner who would bring the Calm to Spira. They let us stay in their warm caves, offering us a feast of their meat. Braska and I thanked them before we settled in for the night.

They saw us off the next morning, helping us to the edge of the Calm Lands. It was high noon by the time Braska had reached the middle of the Calm Lands. We had gone to every little shop, to all the chocobo knights guarding the place, telling them to leave. It was going to get dangerous. They understood, they rejoiced, they thanked Braska and I profusely.

Surely enough, within a few hours Sin had come, its huge bulk looming across the sky, steadily growing in size as it flew nearer to us. Braska and I were waiting for it. Braska awaited Sin with a fierce defiance, this was his last battle; I awaited it with despair. At least I would get to see Jecht again, see his aeon. The one he dreamed up as a fayth before he would go fight, defeat Sin, and somehow, become it.

Braska had taken off his voluminous summoner's robes, he needed them no more. He wore instead his simple shirt and pants as a warrior monk of Bevelle, like he had in the old days before Reiu had died. He turned to me, seeing a black shadow quickly growing on the horizon. Sin.

"Thank you so much, Auron." He smiled his last, it was tight, wan sort of smile, the best he could muster. The wind had kicked up, blowing his long, light blue hair about his face. That was how I always wanted to remember him, standing resolutely with a small smile, his beautiful hair framing his face.

He rushed towards me suddenly, closed his eyes, and pressed a kiss to my lips. Then he turned away, lifted his staff, and summoned his aeon.

The ground shook as the Final Aeon emerged, a mass of water sloshing from the point where Braska stood, his arms outstretched, the ecstasy of summoning on his face as Sin loomed nearer. From the water rose Jecht's aeon. It was dark like him, but huge, towering far above me. Its right arm was hard and armoured, as if Jecht still wore his armguard. It had a wild flair about it, the unruly white hair, the unkempt beard on its face. The aeon's back was protected by a cloak of horns and scales, flaring about it like twin wings of thorns. There was a serpentine tendril wrapped about its neck, and Jecht's insignia shone white in its chest beneath glowing blue eyes.

Despite its monstrous size and imposing presence, it still looked so much like Jecht that my breath caught and my stomach twisted. It rose up in the air, ready to meet Sin, roaring.

"Jecht!" I called out, not wanting to see him go. Not without a last word for me. Not without a goodbye. "Jecht..."

It turned towards my voice, looking down at my small figure. It was already in the air with Sin quickly approaching. I thought I could see it smile.

"Auron..." its voice was deep and rumbling, but carried a timbre that was unmistakably Jecht. Then Sin was here, and the battle was engaged.

I said my silent goodbye to Jecht, my friend, my lover. I would never forget my love for him, I didn't think I could bring myself to love another man after Jecht. I remembered our first night together, our moans, our desperate gropes, our frantic love-making. Almost every other night after that, we'd more than slept together. We couldn't get enough of each other, there were so many things for us to explore, so many things about each other we hadn't yet discovered. Now that he was dead, he was a fayth, I was left unfulfilled.

I rushed forward as Braska collapsed, the summoning done. I caught him in my arms as he fell. This was the end. I watched as Jecht battled Sin, pulling his large sword from his chest with a liquid motion. The sword too, looked exactly as his had been.

"Braska," I gasped, a tiny pyrefly flitting in front of my vision. Braska was already dying, his strength, his life, being drained away by the Final Aeon. He lay weakly in my arms as I kneeled in the tall grass, his head turned toward the battle. He watched, his eyelids growing heavy, watching the pyreflies from his own dissolving body fly to the Farplane.

"Auron," he spoke slowly, his voice quiet, "I'm so sorry."

"No," I shook my head, my throat constricting as hot tears once again began to pour their way down my cheek. I wondered if I would ever stop crying. "That should be me."

"Auron," he shook his head, as much as his waning strength would allow, "take Yuna to Besaid." He paused, looked over to Jecht's battle, his slender chest rising with each shallow breath. "Please. Promise me."

"I promise you, Braska." Both my arms were supporting his body, so I couldn't wipe my tears. They dripped from my chin to land in big droplets on Braska's clothes. "I..."

I gazed out towards the battle. Braska's pyreflies floated about me, murmuring quietly. Sin was falling from the sky, trails of light drifting behind it as it plunged to the sea. Then from the melee of Sin toppling and Jecht crowing his victory, there emerged a large, ball of light, enveloped by red and black darkness.

It rushed forward to Jecht, and it took its form before him. I recognized the figure, it was etched into the walls and floors of every Temple. No child who had grown up, prayed, read the teachings could ever forget it. And there it was in front of Jecht. Yevon.

It dashed towards him, enveloping Jecht in a blinding light. I was forced to look away. I turned my head down, clutching what was left of Braska in my arms. He was fading quickly, the battle won. His eyes closed a small smile on his face. He was dying in my arms, and I was helpless to prevent it.

"Braska," I choked on my words, holding him close.

~*~*~*
.: Braska, what are those?:.
.:They're boats I made from leaves. For the fallen.:.

*~*~*~
.:Braska, where are you going? Why are you leaving me?:.
.:I can't stay here anymore, Auron. The temple is too...I...I think I need a break.:.
.:Why? What's wrong with it here?:.
.:You don't understand, Auron.:. Braska shakes his head. .:I'll be back, friend. I promise. I would never leave you alone. I promise.:.
A fleeting kiss I remembered for a long time.
~*~*~
.:Auron, I want you to meet Reiu. She's from the Al Bhed home. She's my wife.:.
Disbelief.

You promised me, Braska, you'd never leave me.
*~*~*~

"Auron..." his last words, in an unearthly voice, "I..."and then he was gone, and the last handful of his pyreflies scattered, flying from my hands and floating upwards like little shooting stars. I knelt there in the grass, my arms empty. Nothing left of Braska. Nothing left in the sky. Jecht and Yevon were gone, and the sky had cleared. I could hear cheering all across Spira, the exultation of the people echoing across the land.

I was left alone. Jecht was gone, had become Sin. Braska was gone to the Farplane, he had died in my arms. I sat alone in the tall grass, listening to the voices about me, singing the praises of Yevon. It sickened me, everything sickened me.

I buried my face in my hands and wept, the solitary sorrow within a world of jubilation.
I lay in the grass for many long hours that day, blocking out the sound of the cheering in the street. There was a huge celebration with fireworks, the maesters making their speeches. There was music, dancing, drinking, they were cheering Braska's name. I simply spread myself in the grass of the empty Calm Lands, staring into the night sky.

The stars shone above me, scrutinizing me closely. They didn't care that Jecht was gone. They didn't care that Braska was dead. They didn't care that Yevon appeared, or about the endless cycle of Sin. I hate them, in their unfeeling objectivity. I shook an angry fist at them, daring them to come and strike me down. They didn't, of course, just kept watching me.

I hated everything. I hated Yevon for mysteriously appearing, I hated Sin for being Spira's curse, I hated the people who were celebrating. I hated Jecht for sacrificing himself, Braska for his stupid pilgrimage, myself for letting it all happen. But most of all, I hated Yunalesca for making everything, covering Spira in her web of deceit.

I rose from my prostrate position on the ground. I couldn't take it anymore. It hurt, the hate which burned through me, the despair which drowned me, the futility which swallowed me. I screamed, unable to hold it back. I picked up my sword and swung it at anything that moved, billowing grasses, unfortunate fiends. It was so easy to give in to the anger.

Nobody heard me, nobody heard me cry or scream, or curse Yevon and Yunalesca. Nobody heard me curse existence. They were all celebrating the Calm, which had been bought with Braska and Jecht's lives! They didn't understand the sacrifice, they didn't understand the price and what it had meant to me. They didn't understand that Sin was eternal. They didn't know it was all futile, that their happy voices would be crying in sorrow all too soon. I cursed them all.

I flailed around until I was drained of strength, and I stabbed my sword in the earth in frustration. There was only one answered question. Why had Yevon appeared? It was a mystery. Somehow, Jecht became Sin when Yevon appeared. That mystery gnawed at me, first a small nibble then taking great giant bites. It cut through my haze of anger and hopelessness. I needed my answer. I needed it now. It gave me something to do with myself. I gave me a reason to go back to Yunalesca. I wanted to kill her. She was already dead, of course, but like any fiend, she could die twice.

I laughed.
That was my third time through Mount Gagazet, somehow I made it alone. The Ronso were busy celebrating, they didn't notice me. I hurried as much as I could, only sleeping and pausing when I dropped from fatigue. When I awoke, I would pick myself up and continue. Hatred, vengeance, and a question unanswered drove me onwards. Why had Yevon appeared? Why? Wasn't he supposed to save us all?

I barreled my way through Zanarkand, slashing at any fiend or fragment of a memory that came into my path. The old priest ran from me when he saw me. I made it to Yunalesca's chamber, kicking the door open, my sword held forth.

She sat silently with her pyreflies, a graceful hand touching the glass which encased the remnants of Lord Zaon. She started when I burst in, looking up and jumping to her feet. She narrowed her eyes when she recognized me.

"You. What is your business here? Leave Zanarkand at once."

I shook my head, standing my ground. "I have questions for you."

"Ah," she raised an eyebrow, a smile playing about her lips. "Is that so? And if I choose not to answer them?" She started to walk towards the door where she had led Jecht and Braska a few days ago.

"Then..." I paused, not exactly sure of what I could do to her. "Then, I will kill you."

She laughed, one pushed on the doors, they swung open freely on their hinges, revealing the endless night behind them. "I am already dead, young guardian."

"But you can die again." I followed her into the room. I had no idea what she was planning, but I wouldn't let her get away. Not when I had come back again, this far.

She laughed again, turning her back on me and stepping to the middle of the room. It was amazing, my mouth dropped. The door had disappeared and I stood in the middle of the stars. There was but one small platform I was standing on, and nothing around us but endless sky. It took my breath away, but not my resolve.

"What is Yevon," I asked, keeping my voice as stony and cold as possible, despite the wonder around me. "Why did he appear in front of Jecht?"

"Yevon?" Yunalesca, turned towards me, her eyes twinkling. "Yevon is the eternal immortal. He once...ruled Zanarkand, this vast city." She spread her arms wide and closed her eyes. "Now he exists only to summon. There is a certain ecstasy in summoning, a feeling of infinite power. Yevon seeks to obtain it. He summons, all day, all night, through all the years."

My eyes widened at her words. The teachings taught that Yevon was a benevolent being, that he existed to protect Spira. Another false belief. A false god. No. She had hinted nothing at Yevon in the previous meeting, only of Sin.

"Yevon summons Sin, in that armor, he is invincible. Yevon and Sin are Spira's fate. The people fear him, so they revere him. But he still kills them. He lives for the power of summoning." She continued, noting the expressions on my face. I couldn't move, I shook my head. Everything swam about me in swirls of color, droplets of light in a tapestry of blackness.

"There is no escape from Yevon, he is the ruler, the power of Spira. The Final Aeon only gives hope to the people, lets them accept Yevon and their fate, however tragic it might be."

"No!" I cried out. I didn't need to hear anymore. No more falsities. I thought my world had already been shattered, but the truth about Yevon was too much. Why was she telling me this? I was blinded by rage and anger, my chest heaving as I gasped for the breath that would stoke the fire which consumed me. "Where is the sense is all this? Braska believed in Yevon's teachings and died for them! Jecht believed in Braska and gave his life for him!"

"They chose to die...because they had hope."

It was so simple to her. She threw around hope like it was a child's playtoy, to be used and abused, set aside as a trifle. She didn't understand how much Sin cost the people of Spira. She didn't know what it felt like to be lied to. She didn't know what it felt like for your battle to be futile. We couldn't win. Sin would come back, summoned by the very god we worshipped. The irony hit me like a lance in through my heart. Braska and Jecht had given their lives for nothing. For this lie she called 'hope.' For futile resistance. It killed me, crushing my heart.

I charged at her, barely knowing what I was doing. Was I avenging Braska and Jecht? Was I avenging Spira? Did I want her to kill me? I didn't know.

"Hmph," she sneered, and lifted a pale hand. There was a moment of gathering light, as if all the stars were drawn to her palm, converging to her fingers. Then there was a loud burst, and I was flying backwards, flying through the air, the stars laughing at me in their grim darkness. Laughing at my discovery, my anger, my foolish actions. I hit the ground hard, and there was nothing.
I don't know when I came to, I was lying on the stone platform, the stars back to their taciturn silence. Pain shot through my body like a continual spray of water, I could barely move. I was surprised I was still alive. Another stroke of irony. I wanted so much to die right then, lying in Zanarkand, where Jecht had no doubt given his life as well. But Yunalesca's magic left me live, left a wound running down the right side of my face where my still-warm blood pooled. I could have laughed if I had the energy. I lay there for a long, wondering if she was going to walk in and kill me, or if she even cared. Everything was silent except for my struggled breathing. Nothing, for endless time.

I dragged myself to my feet, crawling to a stairwell I saw in front of me. I could barely see through my left eye, the pain left me feeling weak. Sometimes my limbs moved, sometimes they would just give on me. I crawled down the stairs where I was suddenly at the door of Yunalesca's velvet room. She was nowhere to be found. I picked myself up the best I could and stumbled out of the dome. I fell many times, each time wanting to give up. But no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn't die. I wondered if she had left me alive on purpose, to show me what an insect I was compared with her immense power. With Yevon's immense power.

I wondered what torture Jecht must be going through, to resist the possession of Yevon. That was the Calm. When Yevon would gain dominance over the Final Aeon, that was when Sin returned.

I dragged myself out of Zanarkand and onto the slopes of Gagazet. My fourth time through, and not my last. I remembered my promise to Braska. I had to take Yuna to Besaid. Until then...

The fiends of the mountain left me alone, giving me disdainful looks as if I was cursed. They walked away, melting into the shadows of the snows to watch me cautiously from afar. I don't know how I survived that journey, I should have died in the snow. But each time I would awake and continue drudging my half-dead carcass towards Bevelle. They were still celebrating.

By the time I had arrived at Bevelle's gates, it was sunset and the party was dying down. People were going home, and no one took notice of me with the exception of a young Ronso with a broken horn. My head was swimming in pain by then, and breathing was an uphill battle I was losing. I couldn't feel my own body anymore, and I knew I was about to die. I told him about Yuna, made him promise by High Summoner Braska to take the child to Besaid and look after her.

He nodded and promised by Yevon he would.

It was ironic, but it was all the assurance I needed. I rested my head in my arms, the cold stone of Bevelle's road pressed to my cheek. I thought of Jecht, and wished I could fulfill the promise I made to him. I told him I was sorry, that I would do it if I had the strength left in me. But there wasn't, and I died that night.
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