This story was inspired by "A Summoner's Gift" by Elle LeonhartDisclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy X, nor do I own any of its characters, fiends, story lines, or places. This story is my imagination, pure fiction. Any references to the game that seem altered are changed for the benefit of the story.
… … …
It wasn't supposed to end like this. Things shouldn't have turned out this way. He wouldn't accept it. He couldn't accept the spear in his side, the sword piercing his heart. He couldn't go on living knowing what had happened. He was filled with anguish, remorse- eternal depression. He wanted to cry, to cry his brains out. But he couldn't, not now. He tried to speak, but his mouth hurt and was burning. Words came out as nothing but the movement of his lips. His eyes were burning, too; they were ready to burst. But something in the deepness of his body wouldn't let him. His spirit fought over control of his mind.
He raised his head, slowly, sweat dripping off his hair; splattering onto the blood soakened floor. He continued to steadily lift his head. He wanted to wail in remorse, to forever be with his lover. He wanted her to know what he had tried to do, not what had actually happened. He wanted, with every muscle and ounce of his being, to change things to what they should've been. He wanted her to know, even if it was the only thing she would know, that he loved her. He loved her from the depths of his heart. He wanted to make sure that she knew that. But he would never know if she found out.
"You want her to come back, so you can spend all the time with her. You want to never let go," the young voice of a child said. "You want her to come back, so that things will be the way that you intended, correct?" The child's voice seemed to hold secrets. It seemed that it knew things that one could never comprehend. It had an eeriness to it. He didn't like it and it scared him.
"You know damn well what I want!" The spirit lost control and the mind took over. He no longer could control himself. Tears rushed out of his eyes, bursting and flooding the bloodied ground. He couldn't talk right; the feelings were still welled up inside of him. All he could do was whimper and cry. All he could do was to cry forever, to forever mourn and hold his lover in his dirtied hands. "Why… what did this have to happen? Why did she have to die? Why couldn't it be me?" Emptiness grew inside his blackening heart.
"You can't understand everything. Sometimes you have to just accept what life gives you. You can't change everything, in fact, you can change very little." He hated the voice. It knew what was going to happen; it knew she was going to die. The child even had the power to change things, but it never did. It never helped people. It always just mocked those who had suffered from its bliss. He truly believed it enjoyed seeing people suffer.
He realized something when the child spoke. He formed an idea and he knew he could trick the prankster. "You say I can change little," he said as he fought back both tears and a grin, "so, how about I make you a deal."
Before the man could finish, the child interrupted, "I cannot bring someone back from the dead. The balance of living and dead needs to be kept the same. It must be equivalent. Always."
The child's answer made the smirk disappear off his face and transformed into a frown. He thought to himself of a way to still make his plan work, even with this new hurdle. He sat there, holding her limp body in his bloodied hands. His legs were going numb and his arms were being to weaken under the strain of her body. Tears were forming under his eyes, though not yet big enough to fall down. He couldn't fathom why something- someone- so innocent and pure could die; yet alone the horrible fate she suffered. She was killed by one of her friends. He felt sick to his stomach knowing that he had survived while she, his lover, a perfect being, had to suffer and die because of destiny's cruelty.
As he thought of her suffering, his tears grew until the streamed out of his eyes and flowed down his wet cheek, darted down the neck and on either his clothes or the ground. One teardrop fell onto her eyes, pale and scarred, but still perfect. "What… what if the balance was thrown off for only a little, only a few hours or so? Would that be so bad?" He looked at the child, figuring it would give him a dreaded answer, one that would show its coldness and lack of compassion. This is my last chance, he thought, if it doesn't work, this is the end.
But the child surprised him by answering with a thoughtful and caring answer. "It would not be so bad if the balance was overthrown for a few hours," It said in its innocent and yet knowledgeable voice. "But after a day or more, chaos would reign. And things so horrible would occur." So I still have a shot, he reassured himself.
He gingerly moved his arms and placed her lifeless body on the ground. He whispered a goodbye and stood up. His legs muscles hurt as he first stood up. He had put her body on his lap, and now the apathy of his legs was starting to affect him. He wobbled for a second, but then straightened himself out. He was the only one on the stone floor. He breathed a heavy sigh and walked over toward the child spirit.
"What if you brought her back for a few hours, and no more than a day. When the time is up, for the imbalance to be corrected, kill me instead." He muttered the last part, afraid himself to say it. He didn't want to die- no one does. But to let her live, it would be worth it.
He looked at the child and saw no expression. He felt that it wouldn't work and that his final attempt had failed. But yet again, he was wrong. "That will work. But are you positive that you want yourself to die instead of her?" He nodded.
"Very well, now, this will hurt you because I need your memories and strength to resurrect her." The child put his cold, ghostly hand on the young man's shoulder. He hated him and didn't want him to touch his shoulder. But he didn't resist because he wanted his lover to be resurrected. "Now, muster all of your emotions and memories of her. It will aid in her rebirth."
He closed his eyes and wiped away the remnants of tears. He breathed deeply and slowly to begin his concentration. He felt the fayth invading his mind and his heart. He felt its cold, lifeless fingers search for his soul and everything that had to do with Yuna. He felt pyreflies swarm in and through himself. Distantly, it seemed that the fayth was drawing out all of his memories, and emotions, of Yuna. Faintly, he had trouble remembering them. He panicked and felt them being sucked out, never to return. "Still yourself, or it will not work!" he heard the fayth punish him with.
He began to think. He decided since he was offering himself as a sacrifice anyways, he wouldn't need the memories. He began to relax again until he could only remember her name. He drifted between life and death, between awakeness and sleep. He almost dozed off when he heard the fayth again.
"It is finished."