Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy.
A/N: Sometime after FFX-2, assuming you get the good ending. I wasn't sure which game to put this under, so I made it a crossover.
They came with gifts and fake smiles—because there are no real smiles in Spira. Kind words and encouragement, praise, fed eagerly to those willing to sacrifice themselves for a number of people cowering beneath the status quo.
The pyreflies whirl and Yuna dances. The Fayth stops dreaming.
The world is saved. The people came to Yuna and begged her to save them, and she said yes.
They asked her to give her life for them and she said yes. They asked her to marry a man she did not love and she said yes. They asked her to renew their hope and she said yes. They asked her to sacrifice the man she loved more than anyone else in the world, and Yuna said yes.
They asked her to destroy the vast machine that threatened their beloved peace. Yuna said yes again. Again, she saved them all.
But when she stepped into Zanarkand, the place he had relived fond memories, the place he'd stood atop that hill, gazing into the distance, it was full of tourists. And remember; the ruins of Zanarkand will be waiting! They were, they always were, but not for sphere hunters and thrillseekers and tourists. Not for anybody else.
The illustrious home of the once-Maester Seymour, the foul and frightening Guado, was filled by the obnoxious and dim-witted Leblanc. Harsh memories, but he had once stood there, beside her, fuming and mumbling beneath his breath. Watching in awe as the illusion of Zanarkand swept by around them, oblivious to Seymour's silky words in her ear.
Climbing Gagazet, whispering frantically with Rikku and forming wrinkles from worry. She remembered the feeling of his eyes boring into the back of her head. Sphere hunters littered the rocks and cliff sides, peering down at her with haughty eyes.
The people begged her for peace and she gave it to them. And then they forgot.
Whose Calm do you think this is, buster?
Sometimes she wondered why she couldn't be just a statue beside that of High Summoner Braska, standing lonely in a temple, spirit watching as many more came to pray at her feet before they set off to die.
The pyreflies whirl, but Yuna has stopped dancing.
Bahamut, whispering to her on the Farplane, body of a child but presence of an ancient power. You want to walk together again? Her own voice, miniscule and broken, whispering desperately. Yes.
He comes to Besaid from the ocean, as he did before. They walk together again.
Cherish me, Yuna.
Someone gets greedy, claws and scrambles for more power. Makes an armor, built from sorrow and hurt and pyreflies. From the Fayth, dreaming a small dream, but dreaming once again nonetheless. A towering new Sin, and all the people run to Yuna.
They come with gifts and fake smiles—because people of the Eternal Calm have forgotten how to form a real smile. They pray at her feet. But Yuna is not a statue. She does not stand cold and hard at Braska's side, a sacrificial lamb bled dry and forgotten.
A warning voice ringing in their ears. We can't go running to you every time we get into trouble. She kept saying yes.
For all her pain, all her sacrifice, the Fayth give her a tiny little dream. And they do not ask her to stop.
She hates them all. Their greedy, ungrateful eyes, glittering with lust and ignorance. Taking everything for granted. Smashing her memories. Forgetting. Tearing her one happiness away from her.
The pyreflies whirl and the Fayth dreams. Yuna will not dance.
Spira comes to Yuna and begs her to once again be savior. Yuna smiles crookedly, cocks her head to the side, and says, "No."