[FF] Reign of Winter 0 - Crisis of Fayth (Grail Works, Ltd.: Type-Moon/FFX/D&D X-over)

[Xamusel]

I just hope you can completely finish updating this story by New Years Eve... didn't you say somewhere that you'd do that?

[Kieran]

DISCLAIMER: Lunar Legend Tsukihime, Fate/Stay Night, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Kinoko Nasu and Type-Moon, along with anyone who's happened to license them, like Geneon or Funimation. Dungeons and Dragons is the creation of Gary Gygax et al, and the Forgotten Realms are the creation of Ed Greenwood. Both are owned by Wizards of the Coast. Final Fantasy X, X-2, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Square-Enix, along with their employees Tetsuya Nomura, Yoshitaka Amano, and all the others who usually have a hand in developing their games.

This is a not-for-profit, just-for-fun project.








Avalon Castle, Phantasmagoria Island








Ilyasviel sighed. Two hours, more or less, before his cover was broken — that was probably a record. Good or bad, she wasn’t sure, but she was almost positive that it was a record.

As a rule, the Works operated in secrecy — not quite under the Prime Directive of Star Trek, but it had been generally agreed that certain people in the omniverse really didn’t need to realise its existence. People like, say, Hitler, or Gilgamesh, or Emperor Palpatine, to say nothing of thousands of similar entities, if they ever ran across them. And likewise, letting them know that copies of “unique” artefacts of power existed in realities that were only slightly different from their own (or other resources, for that matter) was basically considered a Spectacularly Bad Idea.

Even ordinary people likely wouldn’t take it well, knowing that all their choices eventually spun out into alternate timelines — that in the cosmic scale, they really didn’t matter. And even those who got innocently (or not so innocently) curious enough to explore the idea travelling through the multiverse could cause all sorts of havoc, because of some of the realities they could breach while poking around.

Like, for example, any number of Hell dimensions . . .

As such, the Works tried its best to work covertly, unobtrusively, and they tried not let on any more than they had to about their origins and natures while on missions. And as of now, that approach had been shot to hell.

To be fair, one of the benefits of sending a wannabe professional storyteller to do the job was the fact that he was able to spin things fairly well. Representing himself as a member of a long-lived race native to a far northwestern continent, Kurai explained that they’d been in infrequent contact with Zanarkand around the time of Sin’s origin, and lost touch — and were only now coming to investigate, as their collective sense of time was skewed compared to that of a “brief” race like humanity.

The theory behind that cover went that as much of Spira’s history had been lost, Rikku was unlikely to question the possibility too deeply (and Kurai knew enough of elven customs and culture to fake it if she did). And by the time the Al Bhed or anyone else was in a position to be able to investigate the “lost continent,” they’d hopefully have long since pulled out of that world, rendering the whole problem a moot one.

Things are OK for the moment, she sighed in relief, inwardly shaking her head, nonetheless. First, Shiki sneaks into the Moon Cell, and now this —! Is it something about guys who wear glasses, or who used to wear glasses, or . . .?

She sighed again. At least Saber seems to be managing all right — so far, anyway.

Of course, her first big test is coming up right about now . . .








Temple of Yevon, Besaid Village








Walking — and occasionally, swimming — across the island towards the village, Arturia made a conscious effort to slow her steps. At her natural walking speed, she covered the same amount of ground that most people would at a sprint, so moderating her pace was something of a necessity if she wasn’t to leave her guide behind.

Still, restraining her natural prowess was something of an ingrained habit. Even as a king, she had possessed a level of power and fortitude unknown to her merely human knights, and while some of that could be attributed to her possession of Avalon, her abilities had not begun and ended with the sheath.

As such, it was not too great an effort to seem like less than she was, for Wakka’s benefit. And the exercise in concentration, she was told, would help her master some of her wholly new abilities, as well — like magic.

As a knight, Arturia had little to no use for magic. Her world was one of steel and sinew, where the heart, strength, and skill of a warrior were all that was needed to carry the day. Despite Avalon, despite Excalibur or Caliburn, that was the core of her legend - the warrior king who had united her land under the rule of law and justice, and forged a dream of utopia.

As such, she had no real desire to master the arcane powers accorded to her by her new nature — but she was equally loath to simply surrender a weapon that might prove useful to her.

Of course, part of her problem with the use of her magical abilities lay in the fact that the style of sorcery to which her new form was attuned was far different from that employed by Rin, Sakura, or Ilyasviel. In fact, only a single being within the Works was familiar enough with it to truly instruct her in its use — and she would prefer to have as little to do with him as possible.

Still, objectively, she had to admit that he had thus far proved a surprisingly adequate and knowledgeable teacher.

Thus proving the old adage, “those who cannot do, teach,” she thought sardonically.

Nevertheless, she had to admit that his instruction had been sufficient for her to master a dozen spells, which she hoped would prove useful in the trials ahead. But despite her newfound prowess, in the main, she was a warrior, and so would present herself to Yuna as such.

The temple was small, but obviously well-used, and equally well cared for. People knelt in prayer as she followed Wakka in - and as expected, the priest barred her from attempting to enter the Cloister of Trials. Had she been more inclined to violence, it would’ve been a simple matter to gently nudge him aside and bring down the door with her fists — a single blow would likely suffice — but diplomacy was obviously called for.

“The Summoner candidate has been sealed within for most of a day, I understand,” Arturia said quietly. “This is unusual for the trial, is it not? Will you not then go ahead, to see if she and her guardians have been slain?”

“Slain?” the priest repeated in horror.

“She has not emerged, nor have her guardians — bearing her either unconscious or dead body,” she pressed. “The obvious conclusion is that they have been slain by fiends, and are in danger of becoming such, themselves. Will you not therefore go, as your station demands, and retrieve their fallen bodies?”

The old priest swallowed heavily, but stubbornly clung to traditions, the cornerstone of his faith, as he said haltingly, “It — it is forbidden . . .”

Arturia hardened her voice — deliberately, but it was not difficult to find the requisite contempt within herself to add to her words.

“You would deny them, then, the peace and repose it is your duty to grant them? You would condemn them to become the very creatures you are sworn, as a priest of Yevon, to combat — the same cause to which they have given their lives?” She paused, and said sharply. “This is how you would honour High Summoner Braska — by casting his only daughter to such a fate?”

It was a cruel tactic — from what she had been told, Yuna was as well-liked in the village for being herself as for being Braska’s daughter — but it had the desired effect.

The priest slumped, his expression a mix of defeat and despair, and she continued, “I am commanded to be Lady Yuna’s guardian — if you will not go, let us pass, and I shall retrieve the girl and my would-be compatriots myself. If this is to be the only task I can perform for her, please permit me to do so. I can allow no less.”

Finally, he nodded, and stepped aside. “The Trials themselves will stop you, if you are to be stopped. Either way, the will of Yevon will be fulfilled.”

“So be it,” Arturia acknowledged, striding forward — and now it was Wakka’s turn to follow her, a somewhat disapproving look upon his face.

“Dat was a little hard on him, ya?” the redhead rebuked her. “De father’s a good man — been a priest here for a long time.”

“Then his duties should have been clear to him,” Arturia said firmly. “Or do you agree with him, guardian? Do you think that your comrades — and the Summoner you all were sworn to protect — should be left to their fates, simply because you are forbidden to enter the Cloister? Would you then subject the next apprentice to their wrath, instead?”

Wakka winced at the sharp reminder of his status. “OK, OK — so maybe you gotta point. You could still be a bit nicer about it all, ya?”

“I could,” she acknowledged, “but we would likely still be back there arguing if I was.”

Yes, she could be diplomatic — but part of diplomacy was recognising the most successful approach to a given problem, and some people responded better to the proverbial iron fist than to the velvet glove. The priest had been such a type, and one she’d dealt with often enough before. Should they fail, he could loudly condemn them and their actions, and should they succeed, he could proclaim it the will of their god.

Either way, his hands were washed clean of whatever should befall them now, and he could console himself with the knowledge that he had made the appropriate arguments for the action in the first place.

The “trials” the priest had spoken of turned out to be an elaborate variant of a mechanical logic puzzle — which struck her as an oddity, for a religion that supposedly despised mechanical devices. Nevertheless, that stricture notwithstanding, she found herself navigating a system of counterweights sealed or removed doors and passages leading to the cloister itself, aided by in the inclusion of magical barriers and teleportation circles.

While unfamiliar with the specific layout or design, Arturia found it fairly simple to puzzle out, once she had obtained a rough idea of how it was supposed to work — and she obtained treasures for her efforts — in this case, a priest’s rod. Not too much use to her, save as an item for her collection (it was not a hoard), but it would likely serve Yuna well — and was it not a tradition to come bearing gifts?

Eventually, they reached the antechamber leading to the cloister itself, and confronted the other two guardians — the “black mage” and the spear-carrier, both of whom looked at her suspiciously.

“I am Arturia, student of Auron,” she introduced herself. “I have been instructed by my master to present myself as a guardian candidate to the Summoner, Lady Yuna.”

“She’s not a Summoner yet,” the dark-haired woman replied sharply, the chill in her crimson eyes reminding Arturia of Ilyasviel or Arcueid, in their crueller moods.

“Part of the reason we’re here, ya?” Wakka interjected. “People are gettin’ worried about her.”

“Indeed,” Arturia agreed. “Has it occurred to neither of you to check on her — or at least send a message back outside to the temple?”

“It’s forbidden to enter the cloister,” the mage said sharply, clearly unimpressed with her lack of devotion to Yevon.

“Which does not preclude you from merely opening the door and looking in,” Arturia countered. “Nor does it stop you from retracing your steps while she is ensconced within.

“If she is in no danger,” the transformed dragon continued, without pausing, “then surely only one of you is needed to guard here — the distance to the temple is not so great that you can fail to return swiftly, should trouble befall.” Her eyes narrowed sharply. “And if something has befallen your Summoner within the cloister, then your presence here is even less necessary — for you will have already failed.”

The woman recoiled as if struck, and the large blue beast-man’s muscles tensed, even as a low growl emerged from his throat — but Arturia would not yield in this. If they were meant to serve as Yuna’s sword and shield, then they needed to do so intelligently. Standing guard like this would be wise if fiends were active within the temple, but this was not the case — and therefore merely standing around waiting was a waste of valuable time and resources.

At the very least, sending a message back to the temple might have reached Wakka, and had him organising supplies needed for when Yuna emerged. Food and a bed could have been waiting, to replenish her strength, as well as medicines to deal with any injuries they might have incurred. Perhaps even arrangements for beginning their pilgrimage could have been made, in the hope of Yuna’s eventual success.

All this might have been accomplished in the ensuing wait. Instead, they had panicked the village and accomplished nothing, wasting hours in silence and inactivity, not even seeking to hone their own skills in the interim, whether with exercise or study.

It was wasteful, foolish, and inexcusable, if they truly meant to take their duties seriously. She would not tolerate it, and they would learn that now, and learn from it, or else . . .

With a mental sigh, Arturia reminded herself that turning this ragtag group into something resembling capable warriors was not her primary objective, but it was necessary. The hazards the group would face would likely tear them apart — quite literally — if they remained complacent. Therefore, if she had to play the sternest of taskmasters in order to keep them all alive and whole long enough for them to reach their goal . . .

Well, then so be it.

“Hey!” Wakka said. “No reason to get all worked up . . . You might not like de way she makes it, Lu, but de girl’s gotta point. Trial area’s quiet as a stone — no reason for both of you to be stuck here doin’ nothin’, ya? Been most of a day already, and I don’t see no supplies with you. What were you gonna do— just stand around here ‘til you both died of thirst?”

“You’re one to lecture me about practicality!” the mage snapped, bristling. “What were you thinking, bringing her here —?!”

The door to the cloister opened, and a figure not so much taller than Arturia herself, dressed in garments akin to a long sleeved kimono, emerged. She was quite clearly exhausted, as she was staggering drunkenly on her feet, and the knight was in motion before she so much as fell towards the doorframe.

The bestial guardian moved as well, but while he was undoubtedly quick, she proved the superior in speed. And by bracing herself properly, Arturia remained unmoved by his effort to shoulder her aside, despite the enormous disparity between them in size and weight.

The blue-furred being paused, obviously startled by his lack of success, but she paid him only peripheral attention. The core of her mission, and therefore her focus, was on Yuna.

For obvious reasons, she was a poor judge of feminine beauty — but Arturia believed, by what she had observed of the interactions between Rin, Shirou, and Sakura, that Yuna would be judged such. Still there were imperfections; her eyes were mismatched in colour, a phenomenon she had only witnessed before in dogs, and while not malnourished or obese, she lacked any discernible muscle tone.

The Summoner wasn’t out of shape, precisely, Arturia concluded, but neither was her condition particularly good. Like the black mage, her strengths were mental and spiritual, more than physical. It would slow their pace, the knight thought grimly, as Yuna undoubtedly lacked the stamina for a prolonged march.

But then again, if it became necessary, Arturia could easily (if not comfortably) carry her — the girl weighed little more than a hundred pounds, if any more at all.

Aloud, however, she asked, “Lady Yuna, are you injured?”

The weary eyes turned to her, and glimmered with visible confusion. “. . . Who . . . Who are you?”

“A disciple of Sir Auron,” the knight introduced herself. “By his order, I have come to serve as your sword and shield upon your Pilgrimage — as he did for your father — should you so desire it.” She paused. “Assuming, of course, that the journey is yours to make . . .?”

A faint smile, both sad and proud, graced the girl’s lips. Arturia imagined that she herself had worn that expression more than once. “Yes. I am a Summoner.”

The knight nodded, and though the words were not strictly necessary — or perhaps even appropriate to this frame of reference — she found a certain comfort in their ritual familiarity as she intoned her next words.

“I am the guardian Arturia, and I ask of you, Lady Yuna — are you my master?”








Macalania Woods








Rikku had to admit, it was a bit crazy, by the sound of it — a race of people that lived for centuries? So long that only a thousand years after Zanarkand’s fall did they come looking to find out what had happened?

. . . On second thought, it was a lot crazy. It was a level of crazy the size of Bikanel Island — except . . . Except that she was here, in Macalania Woods, when she’d been a day out from Besaid Island — or Bikanel — less than an hour before. She’d travelled hundreds of miles in what felt like the time between heartbeats. Nothing could do that — not Sin, not an Aeon — nothing in her world . . . Nothing that she knew of, anyway.

So it has to be true, right? I mean, if he’s from some whole other place, with a whole different people that have never had to deal with Sin, or Yevon, maybe they could have learned how to do stuff like this. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Besides — why would he make up a lie like that?

Naturally, she was just dying to ask questions, but the spoilsport was insisting on letting her family know that she was all right. Rikku supposed she couldn’t really fault him for that — but it was so frustrating, with him ignoring her like that. She wanted to kick him in the shin, but given how quickly he moved to slice up fiends that she hadn’t even seen hiding, it was probably a waste of time.

Besides, she was starting to get uncomfortable — her wetsuit was, understandably, soaked, and getting hot and confining in their current environment. And naturally, all her clothes were back on the salvage ship . . .

Assuming there still is a ship, Rikku thought gloomily. Sin had gotten awfully close, and while that — whatever it was — that Kurai had done had seemed to redirect the monster, there was no guarantee that Brother and the others had gotten away safely.

The only way to know for sure was to contact Home and hope they had news, which meant getting to where they were going, and — there it was!

“Rin’s Travel Agency,” Rikku said, sagging with relief. “He’s everywhere — and if anybody has a way to get a hold of my pop, it’ll be there.” She winced as the suit suddenly felt chafing when she straightened up. “And maybe some clothes, too.”

At his silence, Rikku cast a sideways glance at Kurai. “I hope you’ve got some Gil, because otherwise I’m going to have to hock my toolkit — and I don’t wanna hock my toolkit!”

“I think we’ll be all right,” he said. “If not, we’ll just grab the clothes you need, and camp out instead of booking a room for you.”

“Me?” Rikku repeated. “What about you?”

“I’m not much for beds — or walls, for that matter. I’ll camp out, regardless.”

The Al Bhed girl shook her head. She was kind of used to unlikable sleeping conditions — her home was a desert, after all, and she did travel — but actually turning down a soft bed when one was available?

I just knew that there had to be a catch. Cute, kick-butt cool — and crazy! And not about the whole “live for centuries” thing, either! Honestly, wouldn’t you think that would be the crazy part?

Still, he’d gotten her this far, so to speak, so Rikku supposed that she shouldn’t complain; she’d likely have been fish fiend food a couple of hours ago without him. Finally, shaking her head, she said, “OK — let’s go, then.”

The reception desk was much like she’d expected. Rin’s agency outlets were pretty much all the same, from region to region. It was actually kind of comforting, to be able to find something familiar in all the strange places she’d been . . . And that was the point, she guessed. Either way, it was welcome now.

“Hi,” she said cheerily to the receptionist in Al Bhed. “I’d like to record a message sphere to be delivered my pop at Home — and a new outfit, if you’ve got any you can spare?”

Kurai had some Gil, and they’d picked up more from the fiends they’d encountered, but it still wasn’t a lot — and Rikku had no idea how long they’d have to make it last between the two of them. So, getting what she wanted took some haggling, which was understandable — what she was asking for was a highly specialised service, and therefore not cheap.

But eventually, Rikku managed to talk the receptionist into getting her what she wanted — and it didn’t hurt that Rin himself was in residence. As one of the more successful of her people in Spira, he knew her family, having had dinners with Pop at least once or twice a year. In no time, she had herself outfitted in something more comfortable for land travel, and her sphere prepared, with a promise of the speediest delivery possible — as soon as she’d recorded her message.

Rikku stared at the faintly glowing orb, watching the water gleam within. A radio broadcast would be better, but they didn’t have that kind of range on their communications — just a few miles, tops. As such, a courier-delivered recording was the best she could do, for now. And she’d thought about what she was going to say on the way here, but now that the time had arrived . . .

Oh, heck — just go for it! Rikku scolded herself.

“Hi, Pop! If Brother’s made it back, he’s probably all wound up about me being washed overboard by Sin, and how I’m probably dead . . . But I’m OK, promise! It turns out the guy we picked up near the ruins isn’t just cute, he’s got a knack for getting out of nasty situations, too — and he took me along for the ride.

“Anyways, he was looking to get to Besaid so he could be one of Yuna’s guardians . . . At least, I think so. I’m not really sure what all he’s up to and it’s complicated to explain. Anyways, I’m going to tag along and meet Yunie, and I’ll see you again in Luca, probably — that’s where he figures we’ll catch up with her. After that, well . . . We’ll see what happens.

“But anyways, you don’t need to worry at all, OK? I’m perfectly fine, Kurai’s really good at keeping me safe, and nothing bad will happen. I know you’ll probably worry any way, but remember, I can take care of myself. After all, I’m not a little girl anymore. Bye, Pop — see you in Luca!”

Rikku grinned, and shut off the recording.

That takes care of that!

I just hope you can completely finish updating this story by New Years Eve... didn't you say somewhere that you'd do that?

That's the plan/hope, anyway . . .

[Xamusel]

Good thing, Kieran, good thing.

Now... off to writing a whole lot more on my end.

[fsnfan]

Dang.

I was hoping for more epic battle scenes but considering the materials that you have to use I guess that wasn't gonna happen.

Still, I enjoy the character interaction. Especially Rikku. You're right, she's a fun character.

[Kieran]

DISCLAIMER: Lunar Legend Tsukihime, Fate/Stay Night, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Kinoko Nasu and Type-Moon, along with anyone who's happened to license them, like Geneon or Funimation. Dungeons and Dragons is the creation of Gary Gygax et al, and the Forgotten Realms are the creation of Ed Greenwood. Both are owned by Wizards of the Coast. Final Fantasy X, X-2, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Square-Enix, along with their employees Tetsuya Nomura, Yoshitaka Amano, and all the others who usually have a hand in developing their games.

This is a not-for-profit, just-for-fun project.








Rin’s Travel Agency, Macalania Woods








While Rikku was off getting herself outfitted for dry land, Kurai was busy studying maps of Spira. He’d seen one before, in his hint book, but it was nice to have a scale attached to it, so he could see what the distances between points actually was.

And at a rough estimate, teleporting from the ship’s position to Macalania had taken them at least three hundred and sixty miles — nowhere near the full range of the spell, but for someone on foot, it amounted to over two solid weeks of travel.

Not counting running into terrain problems, stops at various temples, random fiend attacks — ye gods, the random fiend attacks — negotiating through crowds of well-wishers, and that they’re a fairly large, and not militarily precise group . . .

Yeah, once you do count all that, it’s obvious that Yuna’s liable to be moving slower. It took them most of a day to get to Kilika Island — but whether it was meant to be just a stopover to pick up more passengers, or a refuelling stop, or they never actually meant to stop at all . . .

The half-drow shook his head — he was getting caught up in tangents again.

It doesn’t matter. Sin’s attack delayed them, and it took at least a day for their next ship to reach Luca. I’ve got some time to play with, if I need it . . .

But do I need it?

The answer to that question was found in another question: what to do with Rikku? If he was prepared to be completely ruthless, one spell would take him to Besaid now and leave Rikku here, to her own devices. Slightly less ruthlessness would have him wait until tomorrow, teleport her to Luca or another population centre where she could hitch a ride to Home, and then vanish off to join Yuna. But was that the best option for either of them?

Rikku’s a teenaged Al Bhed, which is not exactly a winning combination of factors, insofar as the popular view is concerned. The latter fact will get her into trouble with most of the locals, and the former will help her find it. She doesn’t necessarily need a guardian, any more than I necessarily need a guide — but it wouldn’t hurt to have one handy, just the same.

That left the question of how to travel. Teleportation was out, as was the Forgotten Realms’ spell move earth, since it only worked on him. Anything else magical was a little flashier than he wanted to advertise — turning them both into birds, for example, or using a transport via plants spell. In point of fact, he had to admit that he wasn’t really familiar enough with Spiran flora to even try that spell.

I need access to a library, Kurai mused. Something with information of a wide variety of topics, so I can get myself up to speed . . . Or just hope that Rikku knows, I suppose.

Their current position in Macalania Woods was actually in the northern edges of the forest — closer to the Calm Lands than Guadosalam. The problem, as he saw it, was that the party wasn’t normally due to reach here until the far end of the game. Alone, he could probably endure, especially as he would be able to use his lycanthropic forms freely, but while he was travelling with Rikku . . .

She was neither equipped nor experienced enough to handle the strength of the fiends in this area. There was no guarantee he would be able to protect her sufficiently, and he wasn’t comfortable with the level of risk involved.

About the only good news is that Sin isn’t liable to come crashing in any time soon — it’s big, and amphibious, but not terribly fast on land from what I remember. We’re a long way from it, even if it is tracking me somehow — and we should have plenty of warning before it hits.

That was another puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. Was Sin tracking him — and if so, why? For Tidus’ story, it made a sort of sense; it could be explained by the father/son bond between Tidus and Jecht, or Yevon’s awareness of a second “dream hero” in Spira, and his determination to crush it as he’d corrupted the first. But he was neither, and really shouldn’t have registered at all . . .

And yet Sin had shown up at the salvage ship, exactly as before. It was unlikely that he was following the Al Bhed, unless—

Either the ship was a lot closer to Dream Zanarkand than I realise, or . . . What? What is it about me that would . . . ?

The druid stopped, suddenly aware that he was asking the wrong question. He ought to be asking what there wasn’t about him would attract Sin’s attention? No matter what Kurai might do to alter his appearance, he was an obvious non-human to anyone with the right spells or sensory enhancements, and his magic was wholly unlike anything practised here; it drew on Spira itself.

To anyone capable of measuring such things, he would show up as a 40-Hit Dice creature — an entity of no small power, and probably head and shoulders above anything else around. Even a simple alignment detection spell would tell them that much. And it was a safe bet that Yevon could cut through his own spell resistance fairly easily to use one.

Magically speaking, I’ve got to be standing out like a full moon amidst a starry sky — a massive blaze against crowds of comparative sparks. And if that’s the case, then I’m suddenly hoping that Ilya doesn’t decide to invoke our backup plan — because if I’m the Moon, then somebody like Saber or Arcueid is going to blaze like the freaking Sun. Even Sakura’s liable to be pretty damned noticeable to the right people, given the size of her magical reserves . . .

Of course, that’s if that’s how Sin is tracking me, and if it’s tracking me at all — it could just be a coincidence that it showed up when and where it did.

. . . Yeah, that’s it. It’s a coincidence — right.

Finished with the maps for the time being, Kurai asked for any pamphlets or handbooks available on the local flora, fauna, and hazards. It was a travel agency, after all, and such things were expected to be on hand. Fortunately, Rin hadn’t become successful at his business in spite of his being Al Bhed by failing to anticipate his customers’ needs, and the druid found himself purchasing several such items. The pamphlets and such he devoured quickly — his mental acuity was good enough that he’d remember their contents when needed — and he stashed the larger tomes away for future perusal.

“Can you estimate how much longer Miss Rikku will be?” he asked the receptionist politely.

“She’s still going through our available selection,” he was informed, which, since she was a teenage girl, meant that he probably had some time still.

“Could you please ask her to wait here for me until I return?” Kurai requested. “I shouldn’t be too long at all — I simply need to run an errand.”

Once away from the Travel Agency, the druid turned his focus inward, concentrating on the power of the cobra pin which served as his cloak’s clasp. It wasn’t a power he used often, but it was a handy one to have.

Commune with nature normally took ten minutes to cast; this was effectively instantaneous, and its range was only slightly less than if he had cast the spell himself. For twenty miles in all directions, Kurai became aware of the locations of fiends, plants, and manmade constructs — the latter of which appeared as blank spots on his senses. The larger ones were buildings, or statuary, but the smallest ones were what he sought: the treasure chests, hidden in the forest.

Among them, hopefully, he would find better equipment for Rikku, something to help keep her alive long enough to reach the experience levels needed to survive this area . . .

And besides, travelling to them would be excellent practice for him in using transport via plants.

Marking the first location in his mind, Kurai turned to the nearest tree, and specified that he be taken to the nearest tree of its type to that location as he cast the spell, before stepping into the trunk — and vanishing.








Besaid Village, Besaid Island








Yuna found herself with decidedly mixed feelings about her newest guardian, a little guilty being among those for having those mixed feelings in the first place.

On the one hand, this was the student of Sir Auron, who had been trained and ordered specifically to keep her safe on her Pilgrimage — it was an honour to be considered so important, and remembered by her father’s guardian. But she couldn’t help wishing that it was Sir Auron himself, instead. It would have been nice to see him again, and have him with her, until . . .

She shook her head, burying the thought. That day, when and if it came, was still a long way away.

The rest of her mixed feelings came from the reactions of her other guardians. Wakka found Arturia harsh, if well-meaning, Lulu seemed to think that she’d been mortally insulted by the other girl — and whatever Kimahri felt about the situation, he was keeping it to himself, for now. But to have refused Arturia’s protection, after the other girl had trained and travelled for Yevon only knew how long to reach her, all on nothing more than faith that Yuna would succeed at becoming a Summoner . . .

How could she have done that? She couldn’t have done that, plain and simple. And so they found themselves a company of five, with one distinct outsider among what had previously been a group of four close friends.

I hope this goes all right, she thought worriedly.

They wandered up the hillside towards the docks, where they were supposed to meet their ship. Arturia’s pace was brisk, ranging a bit ahead of them, but she seemed to manage it easily enough — there was no sign that the other was sweating or panting as a result of maintaining it. Still, it also meant that Arturia was the first to encounter any fiends on the trail, and one encounter in particular caused them all to stop in surprise.

The fiend plopped down in front of them, literally. It was a Water Flan — not uncommon around the island, and notoriously resistant to physical blows because of its goopy nature. Generally speaking, it just wasn’t solid enough to harm by battering at it with weapons, and Wakka warned her as much.

“Dat one needs to be taken care of with magic!” he called to the blonde. “Better let our resident black mage handle it!”

Arturia nodded in acknowledgement, and then abruptly lashed out with a fierce cry, cleaving the Flan in half — and it began dissolving into pyreflies.

As she sheathed her sword, the petite guardian called back, “Actually, it appears that I just need to hit it hard enough!”

Wakka’s mouth hung open as he traded looks with the others, and Yuna couldn’t blame him. He was strong — but nowhere near that strong. Kimahri might be, but she’d never heard of someone Arturia’s size being able to do that before.

Staring at the blonde girl with narrowed eyes, Lulu murmured in a low voice, “Are we certain that she’s not a fiend — or at least, an Unsent?”

“Auron strong,” Kimahri rumbled suddenly, surprising them all. “. . . Auron’s student is also strong.”

“That makes sense,” Yuna agreed. “If she was trained by Sir Auron, then of course she’d be quite powerful.”

Nods passed among the group, as they were convinced (if not necessarily entirely satisfied) by the logic of that argument.








Arturia made an effort to keep her face impassive, and give no indication that she heard their conversation. Nevertheless, she reminded herself to tone down her efforts at least slightly. Given what lay ahead of them, it was important that they trust her, and arousing their suspicions thus would not help her accomplish her mission. But in truth, Arturia found this situation quite frustrating.

She had a reasonable idea of what this world was like, and some notion of the people she was associating with, but her intelligence was woefully lacking in many areas. Ignorance was the enemy — but it was not one that she could defeat without revealing more than she ought to, or cared to, about her weakness in that same arena.

Of course, there is an easy way for me to gain the information I need to better perform my mission, Arturia reflected. It could be done relatively quickly, as well, and without arousing too many suspicions — but only if the idiot who was assigned to this mission can be bothered to actually show up sometime soon . . . !

She supposed that she ought to be worried about him — but in all honesty “worried” was the wrong word to describe her emotions towards the druid at the moment. “Irritated,” “annoyed,” and “furious,” on the other hand, were all far more accurate terms. She might have been worried, were it not for the fact that she had some idea of his capabilities by now.

His magical range, both in spells and enchanted items, was such that he could have appeared on this island within minutes of his arrival, had he chosen to do so. And even had he been delayed by the necessity of protecting this cousin of Yuna’s, it had been nearly a full day — surely, he ought to be finished with that duty by now!

Nevertheless, whether by accident or design, it was clear that Kurai would not be meeting up with them in the near future to begin his assigned task — and it would be best to assume that such a state of affairs would continue to be the case. That left the burden of protecting Yuna and the others to fall upon her shoulders, entirely, along with the responsibility of saving this world, as had been requested by their client.

(And she firmly ignored a near-silent but insidious whisper that pointed out that their client had, among other things, looked like a magnificent specimen of a dragon.)

Regardless, in the absence of the supposed “expert” on this place, Arturia concluded that she would have to carry on as best she could, learning as she went. And since she could learn from her mistakes, it seemed obvious that in order to begin accomplishing that, she needed to let herself be more open, more approachable . . .

It would be easier said than done, she was sure — but working with Shirou and the others had helped to bend a lifetime’s habits of solitude and control, if not entirely break them. And she had long since accustomed herself to doing anything that was ultimately required of her, in the name of necessity — so she would do this.

To that end, she bent her head in silence as the others prayed at the shrine outside the village, as a sign of solidarity and respect, and considered the best way to achieve what she needed to. Given what she already knew, the solution seemed obvious enough: Yuna. Yuna was the “king” in this grand-scale game of chess — the one whose life or death determined the success or failure of the Pilgrimage.

So therefore, Arturia realised, Yuna was the one she needed to befriend first, and most closely. So long as she had Yuna’s support, the others would at least tolerate her — much the same as she would need to tolerate them, for the same reason.

Unfortunately, her objective proved to be not so easily realised — and in hindsight, Arturia realised that she really ought to have expected this.

Yuna was a person of rank, from a most famous lineage, as she had been in her previous life — and therefore, she was an object of intense interest for the common people. She attracted crowds as a matter of course, whether as a Summoner, as High Summoner Braska’s daughter, or simply for being the beauty that she was. Her kind and somewhat reticent nature only exacerbated the problem, as she seemed to have a difficult time asserting herself against the wishes of the people, particularly in refusing their requests.

It was therefore a great deal of time later, even after boarding the ship, when Yuna was finally isolated enough for Arturia to hold a private conversation with her — but eventually, it did happen. And so, the knight took a deep breath, marched over to the girl, and opened her mouth to speak.

“SIN!” cried the lookout, pointing to an approaching — and remarkably massive — fin streaking through the water.

Arturia closed her mouth, and resisted the temptation to glance around for Shirou, or the druid — both of them had proven themselves to have a knack for attracting catastrophe. Instead, she sorted through the panicked cries for anything tactically useful about the creature, but she only heard, “It’s headed for Kilika!”

One of the sailors moved to a deck-mounted harpoon launcher, and Wakka moved to restrain him.

“What are you doing? Sin’ll drag us down with him!”

The sailor cast an agonised glance at Yuna. “Lady Summoner, I’m sorry — but our families are in Kilika!”

She had to give Yuna credit; the girl didn’t even hesitate, only nodding in understanding after a heartbeat’s pause. There was no regret at all, whether on her face, or in her eyes.

I think, had we met before . . . We might have been friends, the knight mused, before shaking herself out of the contemplative mood and focussing on the battle.

“Lady Yuna, make preparations to call your Aeon,” Arturia instructed. “Wakka, Lulu, step forward — your attacks can be used at a range.”

The mage looked aghast. “You can’t seriously expect to fight that thing and win!”

“We do not need to win,” Arturia stated. “With the harpoon attaching us to it, Sin will have no choice but to endure our attacks, at least for a time. One alters a ship’s course by turning its rudder and that” — she gestured at the fin, which even now was launching dart-like scales in their direction— “is simply a very big rudder.”

The “scales” embedded themselves in the deck, unfolding into fiends, and Arturia charged into the mass of them, sword flashing.

“Kimahri, to me!” she called, before yelling at the others, “He and I can hold them back from you! Concentrate your attacks on a single side of Sin — you must force it to turn away from Kilika!”

“She’s right!” Yuna agreed. “Valefor!”

As the energy pattern of the summoning circle blossomed around her charge, Arturia hoped they were up to this. She thought, in the journey from Besaid, that she’d gotten the measure of this group, and that it was within their capabilities to achieve victory — but if not . . .

If they cannot stop Sin from reaching Kilika, I will have to intervene — without holding back.

As much as she loathed her draconic nature, and resisted its use as much as she could, Arturia would not allow a village full of innocent people to come to harm for the sake of her pride . . . Still, she hoped that she was right, and that Yuna and her guardians were capable of living up to her expectations.

Otherwise, transforming into a dragon and battling Sin — no matter how necessary — was going to create considerable complications for her mission.









Rin’s Travel Agency, Macalania Woods







Rikku blinked in surprise — mainly to keep her eyes from bulging so far out that they popped right out of their sockets — as Kurai handed her two targes and a set of Force Knuckles when she returned to the lobby of the Travel Agency.

“This — this is a small fortune’s worth of equipment!” she blurted. “I was gone for maybe half an hour! How did you —?” She stared at the pile for a moment, then at him, and then shook her head. “Never mind — I’m not sure I want to know . . .”

This resolution lasted for about ten seconds before she cracked, announcing, “OK, I give! How did you do it?”

“Magic,” he replied with a teasing smirk — and if didn’t look so darned good on him, she’d have smacked it off his face.

“Well, this ‘magic’ of yours isn’t going to get me in trouble with anybody, is it?” Rikku demanded. “Most people already think that my people are thieves — I’d rather not get blamed for having stuff that I didn’t even steal!”

“Which implies that you do steal, on occasion?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

Rikku was torn between bragging about how good she was at it, or being embarrassed about the slipup. She settled for muttering, “Well, fiends do pick up useful stuff on occasion, y’know . . . “

The blush that filled her face as she said it was totally not her choice, and she glanced down so that he couldn’t see it so well—and saw a chance to change discussion topics.

“Anyways,” she said brightly, “Ta-dah! I’m all changed! What do you think?” She struck a pose.

Wonder of wonders, the Travel Agency had actually had her favourite outfit — a tight-fitting tank top that showed just enough of her midriff to say that it did, and a fringed pair of shorts that was held in place by a low-slung belt. The suit was held together by buckles that, again, showed just enough to tease, but left enough to the imagination that her dad or Brother weren’t likely to throw a gear when they saw her in it.

Now, if she’d had a bit more of a figure to show off, she might have tried a higher cut on the top, but all it would do now would emphasise what she didn’t have. Rikku compensated for that by leaving her legs bare — they were her best feature, at the moment, and besides, she needed to be able to run, in her line of work. Therefore, restrictive skirts were a really bad idea.

“It’s nice,” he said simply.

“Nice?” Rikku repeated. “Nice?” She huffed. “Meanie. . . You could at least sound like you appreciate it when a cute young girl goes to a lot of trouble to dress up for you, you know.”

“Did you?” he countered.

“Well, duh!” she snapped. “Do you know how hard it was to find anything decent to wear in my size? I swear, everything else they had must have been left behind by a tour group of little old ladies!” She shook her head as they walked outside the building, and back into the open. “Anyways — so, what’s the plan?”

“Well, the method I used to bring us here is a once-a-day thing,” Kurai answered. “So that either leaves us with a day to kill, or we use another method.”

“Like what?” Rikku wondered. So far, his examples of magic had been pretty awesome — if she could figure out how to do them herself . . . She grinned, able to see it in her mind’s eye.

Beware Rikku, the Phantom Thief! By the time you realise your stuff is gone, she’s halfway across Spira already! No valuable or secret is safe from her masterful skills, and no prison or guard can hold this mysterious beauty that appears and vanishes like the wind —!

“Well, we can walk,” he offered, and Rikku stared at him.

“Um, I don’t think my dad would like that,” she said. “See, I kinda promised him I’d meet him in Luca — and walking, that’s a good two weeks away from here. He’ll be long gone by then.”

“All right,” Kurai murmured. “That leaves more magic—”

“I vote magic!” she said quickly. She really, really wanted to see more of what he could do.

“All right,” he repeated. “Then there’s a couple of ways to go about this. Do have a particular fear of enclosed spaces?”

“Not really,” Rikku said. The only thing she was really afraid of was lightning. That was another reason she didn’t want to walk to Luca — they’d have to cross the Thunder Plains to get there. She started shuddering, and that was just by thinking about it!

He gave her an appraising look, and said, “Uh huh.” The tone made her think that he’d just discarded an idea. “How about heights — do they cause you any problems?”

Not — really . . .” she repeated. Heights were only scary in that she’d be that much closer to the lightning — and lightning tended to hit high things. It was why the Al Bhed had built all those towers on the Thunder Plains in the first place!

“Uh huh,” he repeated, exactly the same way, before lapsing into silence, obviously thinking.

Rikku fidgeted. She had the idea that she was missing out on some great (and maybe a little scary, maybe even fun) options, because of the way he was going about this — but she had no idea what they might be.

“Um, what exactly did you have in mind?” she prompted him. “Maybe if I knew what you were planning to do in order to get us to Luca, it might be easier to decide how to pull it off?”

“Well, if enclosed spaces are a problem, travelling via plants is a bad idea,” Kurai responded absently, his mind obviously only half on the conversation — the rest was still working through the problem. “And if you’re afraid of heights, then that lets out flying there . . .” His focus shifted back to her, completely. “Can you ride?”

Rikku blinked, still a little stunned by his earlier statements. How did you travel “via plants?” And flying? He could fly?

I have got to learn how to do some of this stuff, she resolved. I just absolutely, positively have to learn how to do it —

“Rikku? Pay attention, please.” Kurai’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts as he repeated, “Can you ride?”

“Can I ride?” Rikku blurted. “You mean, like ride a chocobo? A little, but it’s been a long time — and they’re kind of rare . . .”

“If worse comes to worst, then, you can ride with me, all right?” he said kindly. Kurai stretched. “It’s not the fastest way to travel, and I don’t generally use them much, but I suppose I ought to see how this class of spells works in Spira, anyhow; and better I do it here now than in the middle of a fight.”

“What are you talking about?” Rikku demanded.

“Summoning spells,” Kurai said offhandedly — and her heart turned to a lump of stone in her chest.

Summoning — he’s a Summoner?! But that means — no, no, NO, NO! Not him, too! He shouldn’t have to die, too!

Rikku fought down her panic. It was OK — she could fix this. Pop already had a plan, it was already in motion. She’d just grab him when they caught up with Yuna — then he and her cousin would both be safe, and they wouldn’t have to worry anymore. Sure, it’d be hard to hold him, but they could manage — besides, it was only until Operation Mi’ihen, anyway. Once the Crusaders wiped Sin out, the Summoners would all go free, and everybody would be OK.

It’s OK, I can handle this . . .

Rikku’s thoughts stopped as Kurai walked a few feet away from her, gesturing for her to stay where she was — because thinking about it, it didn’t make sense. Kurai sure didn’t act like a Yevonite — unless you counted smacking Wed’j and B’iggs around, but it’d been because they were jerks, not Al Bhed. And he’d said that his homeland had no knowledge of Sin or Yevon.

So how — and why — can he summon Aeons?

Oblivious to her thoughts, Kurai spread his arms and chanted.

“Nature’s children are we all — so hear me, brethren, heed my call.
For two to journey far and wide, I ask a mount come to my side,
Swift as the wind, for time is fleeting,
And the bonds will break soon, upon our meeting.
Yet if you’ll come, because I bade,
Stand now, ally, and render aid.”

No summoning Rikku had ever seen or heard of required such words — it was all ritualised movements, and the will of the Summoner themselves — yet the words themselves resonated with a power she couldn’t quite comprehend, even it washed past her, beyond her, to whatever the words were directed at. It felt as though it wasn’t a voice speaking at all, but the roar of the wind, or the waves, suddenly granted the power of speech.

It wasn’t just the timbre of his voice, though — pyreflies danced and swirled around him like a swarm of butterflies, as though attracted by the sound. It was as beautiful a sight as it was alarming — because Rikku knew very well that it took a massive number of pyreflies before they became visible!

What in Spira has he done?

A sound alerted her to the presence of a newcomer, and the Al Bhed princess turned — and gasped.

Dang.

I was hoping for more epic battle scenes but considering the materials that you have to use I guess that wasn't gonna happen.

Well, this is just the first encounter - hopefully, the subsequent ones will be more to your liking.

Still, I enjoy the character interaction. Especially Rikku. You're right, she's a fun character.

Isn't she, though? And perky and cheerful (with a bit of cheeky thrown in) plays off of Kurai so well . . .

That's one of my regrets - that I couldn't figure out a reasonable way to make her a recurring character. And I have difficulty picturing a Type-Moon character who could fill the same role . . . Taiga, maybe, but she's not my type. Nero or Tamamo, in their own ways, or maybe Ilya herself (particularly the "Prisma Ilya" version)?

[pureauthor]

Phantasmoon, obviously.

Combine with Prisma Ilya and Kaleido Ruby and Magical Amber for maximum Magical Girl craziness.

On to the story, I really like your portrayal of Rikku. Especially when she can bounce off the considerably more dour Kurai.

[Xamusel]

Might I offer a way to bring Rikku into the status of recurring character?

Simply put? My character is a Keyblader... and one that will get Rikku in the Works. Therefore, you can work with her more, Kieran.

[Kieran]

Phantasmoon, obviously.

Combine with Prisma Ilya and Kaleido Ruby and Magical Amber for maximum Magical Girl craziness.

Sadly, Prisma Ilya is the only one of those I can actually write, now that I at least own the anime. If they'd release Carnival Phantasm over here, I'd have more options, but . . . *Sighs*

On to the story, I really like your portrayal of Rikku. Especially when she can bounce off the considerably more dour Kurai.

Me, too - that's why I almost wish I could keep her.

Might I offer a way to bring Rikku into the status of recurring character?

Simply put? My character is a Keyblader... and one that will get Rikku in the Works. Therefore, you can work with her more, Kieran.

. . . It's tempting - it really is - but Rikku would likely be difficult to deal with, once she found out how thoroughly he'd lied to her. Alternatively, using a Kingdom Hearts-native Rikku would just make him melancholy over the one he knows . . .

It'd be better (probably) if I can find a Type-Moon equivalent character. Kurai does need a (semi-)permanent partner, after all.

*Chuckles* Truth be known, from all I know of her so far, a younger Irisviel might be funny (if only for Ilya's reaction alone) . . .

. . . But then again, I suspect her fans would lynch me.

Hm - Miyu Edelfelt is a dimensional traveller, right? Suppose she wound up on Golarion, rather than Prisma Earth . . .? Sure, she's not as cheery as Rikku, but she'll engage Kurai's protective instincts nevertheless - and trying to draw her out of her shell might lighten him up in the process.

[Xamusel]

Hmm... well, depending on how you manage to pull that off, Miyu could easily be the Rikku equivalent.

[Kieran]

Maybe - from what I've seen, Miyu is more the Rei Ayanami type (which does push some of Kurai's buttons) - which is not to say that she can't be humorous; I just suspect it's more in the "dry humour" vein. Rather like dealing with Tara Strong as Raven, as opposed to Rikku.

. . . And judging by her behaviour around Ilya, I suspect she might have some yandere tendencies . . .?

[fsnfan]

. . . And judging by her behaviour around Ilya, I suspect she might have some yandere tendencies . . .?

Yeah, I agree with that sentiment. I'm amazed the mangaka was able to make her look like a loyal friend instead during her fight with Kuro in 2wei.

[Kieran]

DISCLAIMER: Lunar Legend Tsukihime, Fate/Stay Night, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Kinoko Nasu and Type-Moon, along with anyone who's happened to license them, like Geneon or Funimation. Dungeons and Dragons is the creation of Gary Gygax et al, and the Forgotten Realms are the creation of Ed Greenwood. Both are owned by Wizards of the Coast. Final Fantasy X, X-2, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Square-Enix, along with their employees Tetsuya Nomura, Yoshitaka Amano, and all the others who usually have a hand in developing their games.

This is a not-for-profit, just-for-fun project.








S. S. Liki, en route to Kilika Island







The beasts that Sin hurled at them (which resembled clams initially, until unfolding into a bizarre hybrid of bird and insect) were remarkably easy to slice through — for Arturia, at least. Kimahri had more difficulty, but they were able to keep up. The scaly creatures’ true strength lay in their seemingly endless numbers, she supposed. Each time they eliminated a group, more were thrown to take their place.

For all that, however, she noted that Sin did not seem to know how to use this advantage tactically, as only three such creatures appeared at one time. A more effective strategy, she thought, would have been to unleash a far larger swarm, and simply swamp them through sheer numbers in a single blow rather than a protracted fight.

Or was it, for some reason, unable to do so?

Arturia frowned. Unfortunately, Auron had known a great deal of Sin’s history and true nature, but little of the creature’s actual makeup. It was like saying that people were aware that she was a dragon, but not knowing facts such as how or why a dragon had its elementally-aligned breath weapon, what its eyes were composed of, or that it could see in the dark.

Then again, she supposed that as a warrior, Auron had little interest in the mechanics of how the monster worked — but she knew from experience that such things could occasionally reveal telling weaknesses . . .

It was something to keep in mind.

In between slicing up monsters that attempted to claw their way to Yuna, Arturia also kept half an eye on the Summoner herself, noting their tactics, and potential weaknesses. Unfortunately, she found a fair number of the latter.

First and foremost, their garb was utterly impractical for combat. To be sure, Kimahri’s hide was thicker than human skin, like armour in itself, and Yuna was unlikely to shed her robes — they were too formal-looking, and likely the required garments of her office — but the other two were no better. Despite being polar opposites in how they dressed, neither had apparently been practical in choosing what they had.

The mage’s garb was so confining that Arturia doubted if she could truly run, should they need to, whereas Wakka was dressed for to emphasise freedom of movement and agility (something, admittedly, that he possessed in good measure), but too exposed. All the vital spots on his chest and arms were bared, and all it would take was a single thrust of a claw, or sword — though thus far, claws seemed more likely, Arturia admitted.

Still, they required a better class of armour than what they were wearing. Something leather for Wakka, likely — tough enough to blunt a blow, but flexible enough to allow him to move with his accustomed agility, and Lulu had to get rid of that — it was a ball gown, not battle armour, and black was hardly a wise colour. Oh, to be sure, it was excellent for stealth, but if they were going to be marching under the sun on a regular basis, as seemed to be the case from the weather she’d observed thus far, the woman would likely die of heat stroke before they reached the next temple.

Furthermore, Lulu’s ornate hairstyle was impractical, as well — Arturia had worn her hair up for a reason besides its necessity for posing as a man, On the other hand, Yuna, from her dancing motions as a Summoner, appeared agile and flexible enough — something to let her move more easily seemed advisable, if she could be convinced to wear it . . .

Arturia sliced through another scale-beast, turning her attention briefly to their course. While not a dedicated sailor, she had lived in and ruled an island nation, and so was not entirely unfamiliar with the mechanics of it, and she judged their speed as still far too fast to be safe. Estimating the time of impact with the village was trickier; even with a rough idea of their speed, she had to take the size of Sin into account, and she wasn’t precisely certain how big it actually was.

Her best guess was by comparing the size of the fin they were targeting with the size of shark fins, relative to the actual shark. If her guess was accurate, Sin would impact Kilika several seconds before they would — at least!

And while they do seem to be hurting it, from the way it tugs upon the line, it would not appear to be sufficient to cause Sin enough pain to truly turn aside . . .

Arturia scowled as she considered their options. Off the top of her head, she could think of only one way to hit Sin hard enough — and that was to resort to one of her spells. Judging by the relative damage she was already doing with her sword, even her basic spells ought to wreak significant havoc, but it was a tool she’d hoped to not need to use . . .

Even as the thought formed in Arturia’s mind, at Yuna’s direction, Valefor inhaled deeply — and a growing point of light formed at its open mouth.

It has a breath weapon? she wondered, just as a line of light sliced its way across the fin, with an explosion following in its wake — and Sin wrenched to one side, sending the boat careening, the deck tilted . . .

And seeing a sudden opportunity, Arturia seized the chance to “fall” overboard, into the deep blue sea.

She sank below the water’s sightline easily enough; she was an expert swimmer, after all, and if the druid had been good for nothing else, he had taught her how to shift her shape quickly and efficiently, having long since mastered the skill himself. In barely a heartbeat, she was below the light penetration level, and a dragon once more — able to breathe underwater, to swim with a speed equal to that of the boat . . . And, for the first time, able to behold her enemy.

In some respects, it resembled a blue whale, particularly in size. There was no denying that Sin was a massive creature — even in her current form, Arturia felt tiny by comparison — but the sort-of familiar shape also gave her an idea of what to do next. She streaked ahead, invoking one of innate spells she held — haste, she’d heard it called — to increase her speed, and gain distance, before wheeling around to stare the creature down as it barrelled towards her.

Arturia concentrated on one of the strange new channels she’d formed for the mystical energies inside her. It didn’t come easily to her, however natural it ought to be for her draconic nature. The spell was far from powerful, in comparison to many; but while the mystical might and range she could bring to bear rivalled that of veteran spell-hurlers, her ability in wielding it was those of a novice, still.

Still, when learning to shape her magic, it had been one of her first choices, of all the spells available, for several reasons. Firstly, because it was an offensive technique — one of the most basic weapons of any mage, in fact — but the second reason was more important:

While it could be blocked, or even absorbed, by other spells, this one never failed to hit its target . . . And only its target.

“Magic Missile!”

Five bolts sprang from her right talons, the same hue as one of Excalibur’s blasts — and if they were not remotely as effective as that magnificent blade, their aim was satisfyingly true. A multi-petaled flower erupted in Sin’s left eye socket (an eye socket that was nearly her height, she noticed), followed almost immediately by a bolt of lightning to the same area, as she added her own version of Valefor’s powerful breath attack . . .

And now the beast turned, thrashing wildly as it recoiled. The currents it stirred were powerful enough to resist even her strength and skill — to say nothing of her mass — and it was finally all she could do to ride them, use them to lift her back up, above the surface . . .

The timing was tricky, but her hard-won skills served her in good stead. Angling her body just right, Arturia shifted back to human, to be flung back towards the body by a rising wave — and landed in a less-than-dignified heap upon the deck.

“She’s alive?” Yuna’s voice gasped. “Oh, thank Yevon!”

“Don’t be too quick about doing it, Yuna,” Lulu warned darkly. “She’s liable to be just a shell, now — even if she somehow didn’t manage to drown, Sin’s toxin has probably wiped her mind clean.”

It would be a convenient excuse, Arturia reflected. Auron’s briefing on Spira had been just that: brief. And they had known, even as it was given to her, that much of his information was liable to be ten years out of date — but it was what had been available, and any intelligence was better than none, usually.

Still, it had been a threadbare cover she’d been working under, and they all knew it — the hazards of a mission planned in haste, out of necessity. But with her “exposure” to the toxin to cover any lapses, it would make things far easier for her, at least in some respects. She would simply have to watch what she said and did very carefully.

It is distasteful, to deceive my own allies so, the knight thought, but I think that is a necessary sacrifice in the pursuit of our mutual goals. A moment’s consideration caused her to add drily, and it would hardly be the only deception I am perpetrating, after all — not even the most severe.

And to that end, Arturia raised her head slowly, and asked in a quiet voice. “Who said that . . .? Who are you?”

Yuna winced. “Oh, no . . .”

Lulu looked almost smug, while the other two merely held grim countenances. Arturia, meanwhile, was struggling not to show the same, as she suddenly realised that she’d managed to drop her sword at some point during her impulsive swim. Sighing mentally, the dragon knight added yet another item to their shopping list, and wondered how she ought to bring it up with the group . . .








Avalon Castle, Phantasmagoria Island








Some days, Ilya reflected, it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed.

Not that she slept, exactly — but given the current range of problems that were arrayed against her, she felt that the sentiment was certainly understandable.

Across town, outside of Avalon’s reach, the bulk of their human agents were purchasing enough food and supplies for a small army, because with anywhere up to fifteen people in the complex at a time (not counting clients), they generally went through a lot of laundry soap, groceries, and other disposables. Rider was the sole exception, mainly as she was the only one present that could drive the rented mover’s truck to get it all back home.

And one of these days, she thought grumpily, we really have to come up with a better way of travelling on and off the island . . .

At the moment, she was maintaining three permanently-anchored Doors between the normal world and Ilyatopia (she was stuck here, so she was going to call it what she wanted to, and votes be damned). One was in Shirou’s equipment shed/workshop, one was attached to the Tohno manor in a similarly unobtrusive place, and one was attached to the Tohsaka property — and all three of them were a mild but constant energy drain.

Personally, Ilya would’ve preferred to issue each Works member some key item to open Doors at will; it would make tracking and communicating with them all easier, as well. But on the other hand, there was the issue of their being lost, stolen, or destroyed . . .

Regardless of that issue, however, those outside the island’s confines were largely unavailable for any request-granting, at the moment. Even Ren and Garm were busy, moving among a world of “Pokémon” to collect a few of the magically-saturated elements there. They could do so quickly, unobtrusively — in most cases the inhabitants wouldn’t even miss them.

And it would give them more energy to work with, should she actually be required to grant a wish.

(Or maybe it was a miracle — they weren’t quite sure how to classify her particular abilities yet.)

Of the people who were at home, Kohaku was currently busy distracting one Akiha Tohno from requesting yet another status update on her brother — an absolutely critical task. So, basically, neither of them could be disturbed — and neither was really suited for much of what was on her plate, anyway. And on the other side of that situation, Arcueid Brunestud was still trapped in the Moon Cell, and Shiki was still trying to rescue her —

. . . And he’d just pulled a boneheaded stunt in the process, but there wasn’t much she could do about it until she got past the system’s security. Ilya swore to herself that if she ever got her metaphorical hands on SERAPH’s programmer, she’d make the infamous Magic Gunner look downright harmless in comparison by the time she was through with him . . .

Ahem. At any rate, the simple fact was that as usual, there were too many needs, and not enough bodies to meet them. To some extent, she could circumvent that, it was true — her ability to open Doors was gave time a certain malleability, as did her ability to predict the likely outcome of their actions (limited and uncertain though it was). But the simple fact of the matter was that they really needed more people than they had.

Ilya supposed that she could try to access the Throne — she was the Grail, and the system was still in place for her to summon Servants — but she thought it better to wait for one of the magi of the group to come home. It wouldn’t do much good to Summon someone, and have no one available to bind them to for prana support, after all.

That left waiting for a mission to be finished before sending someone off again. The question was who would be finished first . . .?

Ilyasviel concentrated. Her predictions were not, unfortunately, a simple matter of seeing Action A lead to Result B — few divination techniques were. Instead, she generally saw the result, and then had to puzzle out what action or element had caused it.

As she was not omniscient, it usually required a work to figure it out, but she was generally able to determine whether or not something would lead to a successful completion. Not immediately, perhaps, but sooner or later. That being the case, she concentrated on the question of the likely result of their current efforts in Spira . . .

And her eyes would’ve bulged out of their sockets, if they weren’t energy patterns woven into a spiritual construct.

“All right — what the HELL is a Vegnagun?!” she demanded of no one in particular — and that being the case, she received no answer.

Sighing, the platinum-haired homunculus-turned-spirit turned more of her attention back to Spira, and the two agents in place. She needed at least one of them to be alone, so she could open a direct communications channel without everyone crying “fiend” at her manifestation — not that it would hurt her, but their credibility would be kind of shot.

Nevertheless, she’d have to do it, because they needed to know about this latest development; it seemed that if they really wanted to save Spira and its people, then they had other problems to solve, besides Sin.

And one really big, really ugly problem in particular . . . she thought.








Rin’s Travel Agency, Macalania Woods








In all honesty, Kurai wasn’t entirely sure what the spell would call up — it wasn’t as though Spira was a D&D world, with creatures he knew automatically. More to the point, he’d never actually used a summon nature’s ally spell before, of any level. With the duration it had, it was basically designed to give him an extra body in combat, and he disliked putting others at risk just to have a meat shield available.

Which was not to say that he hadn’t used similar things before — Nightshadow, his original wolf companion, had undertaken fights with him, and he’d used summoning spells like elemental swarm — but not this. All he could be sure of was that the creature summoned would be of a compatible alignment with himself, and because of the way he’d worded it, willing to help.

The pyreflies swirled and danced, before spiralling up and around him to coalesce into utter darkness — a rapidly-growing shadow that blocked out the sun, until steely talons seized both Rikku and himself, and bore them both aloft with terrifying speed. Rikku screamed, and he might’ve done the same, thinking that he’d somehow summoned a roc, until a mighty but familiar cry rent the air.

“KWEH!”

The ground far below his feet blurred, as even his vision had trouble keeping up with their pace. He did his best to tune out Rikku’s cries of panic — there wasn’t much he could do about them at the moment — and kept a mental count in his head.

One round . . . Two rounds . . . Three rounds . . .

When he hit twenty, the massive bird dove, lowering itself until it dissolved into pyreflies, leaving them to drop (relatively) easily onto the ground. Rikku instinctively crouched into a roll, whereas he just absorbed it. It hurt, but his healing factor took care of it — which was just as well, because Rikku needed the time to finish heaving up her last meal.

For the sake of her dignity, Kurai steadfastly ignored it, concentrating on the shadowy bird which had finished melting away in the air.

“Hm — I haven’t seen a black chocobo in years,” he admitted honestly, all the while wondering where, exactly, it had come from.

I always assumed that the druidic summoning spells, unlike the arcane or clerical variants, called things from other parts of the world, rather than other planes (with elementals as an exception) — but the only black chocobos I know of are from Final Fantasy IV, and this is the world of Final Fantasy X. So, am I wrong in my assumption, or could there actually be a colony of them, somewhere in Spira?

“I never want to see one again,” Rikku groaned. “That was, like, the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

Kurai shrugged as he removed his Decanter of Endless Water and a goodberry from their places on his belt, and momentarily concentrated on his clasp’s powers before shrugging again. “We’ve covered about six miles in a little over two minutes — that might be worth the trade off, really.”

Murmuring the activation word for the decanter, he passed both items to the Al Bhed. “Here — rinse your mouth out and take a drink of water first, and then eat the berry.”

“No, it really isn’t,” Rikku replied sourly. “And thanks.” She did as he’d instructed, spitting mouthfuls onto the ground. “Oh, that felt awful. If that whole plant thingy is like that, no wonder you were sure I wouldn’t want to go that way!”

She popped the berry into her mouth — and her eyes popped with it.

“Yummy — and I don’t feel like I want to throw up, anymore!” she exclaimed in surprise.

Kurai smiled. Goodberries had a minor healing effect, when needed, and also functioned as a full meal. They were a druid’s emergency rations, so he always carried a few handfuls — because best of all, they lasted for weeks. Between that and the decanter, he was pretty well set to survive without foraging for a while.

Well, that and the jerky, he reminded himself.

In upgrading his lycanthropy to the Legendary Wolf template, he’d taken on some of the salient powers that lycanthropes could gain in the Ravenloft setting, as well as their inherent flaws, as well. One of those was that his lycanthropy was more virulent — and it would be important to remember that, since he lacking the holy amulet he’d possessed as a third-edition D&D character, he was currently infectious.

He’d have to be careful, and make certain that he killed anyone that he ended up biting — no need to unleash lycanthropy on a grand scale here.

Though I can already cast cure disease, and a greater dispel magic apparently functions as a substitute for remove curse in 3.5 . . . the druid mused idly, before shaking his head. Nah, better I not chance it at all. Spira has enough problems without my creating that one — because the second flaw will make it so much worse . . .

The second flaw was the Hunger: a literal need to eat a certain amount of meat in pounds each day; and preferably raw, as cooked meat only counted as half its weight. Without satisfying that requirement, he would begin starving to death, no matter if he ate regular meals. But that need made snacking on humans even more understandable, as they were usually plentiful, easily caught and killed — and more than large enough to sustain a lycanthrope (or other werecreature)’s appetite.

Not that I have any plans to indulge the Hunger whatsoever on that score . . .

“Hey!” Rikku’s voice drew his attention again. “After that little stunt, I need to go find a bush, or something. Keep an eye out and wait here, would you?”

“Of course — and I’m sorry for the fright.”

“Tell that to my bladder,” she muttered under her breath, low enough that he obviously wasn’t supposed to have heard it, so he said nothing — but he had. Kurai might not have Archer-class vision, but his ears and nose were nearly as sharp. They were sharper than Saber’s in her dragon form, even.

It was a fact which made the sheer surprise of Ilya’s sudden appearance all the more galling to him.

“Finally!” she growled. “I’ve been waiting ages for her to leave!”

“Sorry,” Kurai apologised. “Is there a particular problem?”

“Oh, there’s a whole list,” the petite spirit snapped. “Between you and Saber, this is looking less and less like the easy mission you were sure it would be.”

“I didn’t say ‘easy’ — I said it was ‘simple,’” Kurai corrected. “Somewhat along the lines about how lifting an engine block out of a car is simple — but it’s a heck of a lot of work to pull it off.”

So he was paraphrasing Harry Dresden; why not? The analogy was apt.

“I’m starting wonder if we can pull it off,” Ilya muttered. “The path you’re headed on has Spira being destroyed.”

The druid froze. “What?” He’d thought they stood a reasonable chance — but they’d still managed to blow it? “How?!”

“Something called ‘Vegnagun,’” Ilya said. “It looks kind of like a metal dragonfly on steroids —”

“Oh,” Kurai said, suddenly understanding. “. . . OK, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“You knew?!” the spirit demanded, hair bristling.

“It’s two years away!” he protested. “I was more worried about this place surviving that long, first!” He shook his head. “Look, I can take care of that—”

Ilya vanished, abruptly, and he blinked in confusion, until the wind carried a strengthening scent to his nostrils.

“Who were you talking to?” Rikku asked, emerging from the trees.

“Just talking to myself,” Kurai said honestly. “It’s an old, bad habit. I’m trying to figure out the best route to go from here. We’re only about ten miles from Bevelle — we can be there before nightfall — but it’s not exactly somewhere you want to go, is it?”

Rikku snorted. “Not likely. I’d almost rather spend the night on the Thunder Plains.”

Kurai nodded, considering options. He could camp out here, easily—he’d prefer it, in fact — but he assumed Rikku would rather not rough it, if she could manage to avoid it. Unfortunately, even the maps he’d seen only listed Bevelle as the major settlement in the area, and he doubted that Rin maintained a Travel Agency outpost so close to the heart of the anti-Al Bhed movement, so it appeared as though they had no choice.

More to the point, he now had a very good reason not to wander too far from this area.

The druid’s player had never actually finished playing Final Fantasy X-2. Time-consuming side quests and mini-games were not his cup of tea, generally, and developing carpal tunnel syndrome hadn’t helped, either. And with the release of the online Final Fantasy XI (even worse), followed by XII (so annoying that not even Kari Wahlgren as the heroine and Simon Templeman as a villain could save it — though it might’ve helped his enjoyment if he’d actually played Final Fantasy Tactics) . . .

Simply put, he’d gradually lost his taste for the series altogether. Nevertheless, he’d gotten far enough to know the gist of what the story had ultimately been about, as well as key information that would serve him in good stead now.

Like the fact that Vegnagun is buried about five miles from here, in the heart of Bevelle. But it’s not the real problem — the real problem is Shuyin.

As ludicrously powerful as Vegnagun was, it had only been activated by Shuyin’s will; left to its own devices, Vegnagun would remain dormant. Not even the Maesters had dared activate it, for use against Sin, because it was an indiscriminate berserker, unable to distinguish between friend and foe.

Heck, there were hints that even then, Vegnagun wasn’t as big a threat by itself. Supposedly, its primary weapons system had only been in the planet-destroying category because it had been absorbing energy from the Farplane, where it had gone to hide after —

. . . Wait, that doesn’t compute. It was never activated because it’s so aggressive a weapon that it will destroy everything in its sight, but when it detects even the slightest hostility aimed towards it, it runs away?

The more he thought about that, the less Kurai liked it. In his experience, contradictions like that usually only existed for very bad reasons — reasons that usually bit him and the rest of the party on the ass as soon as possible. But at the moment, it was just an even better argument to leave Vegnagun exactly how it was, and exactly where it was. The machina wasn’t bothering anybody, and it wouldn’t, until Shuyin tried to get his undead mitts on it again.

And that means that I need to get to him first.

Now was the perfect time to do it, really. He wasn’t going to be released from his cavern prison until sometime before Operation Mi’ihen, when the Crimson Squad came poking around; and it was likely still early enough that he could beat them to the cavern. Unlike the Crimson Squad, Kurai was immune to possession, so there was no way that Shuyin could ride him out of there.

And if the Unsent blitzball player couldn’t be outright destroyed, then at the very least Kurai could seal up the cavern before the Squad ever got that far, keeping him trapped forever.

The catch, of course, is that the cavern is on the other side of the continent . . .

A sudden shooting pain in his shin brought him back to reality, leaving him staring at Rikku. The Al Bhed girl’s expression was a combination of mischief, irritation, and smugness.

“Now that I have your attention,” she said clearly, “do you want to tell me what you’re thinking so deeply about that you’re ignoring me?”

“I’m just trying to figure out the best way to get to where we want to go from here,” he said.

To his surprise, Rikku grinned. “Oh, is that all? That’s easy. All we have to do, see, is to keep moving forward . . . Simple, right?”

Green eyes twinkling, her grin widened into a full smile, and it proved to be infectious, as Kurai found a matching one on his own face.

“. . . I suppose it is, Rikku. I suppose it is, at that.”

[Kieran]

DISCLAIMER: Lunar Legend Tsukihime, Fate/Stay Night, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Kinoko Nasu and Type-Moon, along with anyone who's happened to license them, like Geneon or Funimation. Dungeons and Dragons is the creation of Gary Gygax et al, and the Forgotten Realms are the creation of Ed Greenwood. Both are owned by Wizards of the Coast. Final Fantasy X, X-2, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Square-Enix, along with their employees Tetsuya Nomura, Yoshitaka Amano, and all the others who usually have a hand in developing their games.

This is a not-for-profit, just-for-fun project.








Kilika Island








Yuna tried to feel jubilant about the battle, because certainly, the residents of Kilika Village had reason to be. After all, they had managed to turn aside Sin, and spare all these people its wrath.

But the cost they’d incurred in doing so . . .

Arturia was still as strong as ever, still as quick. Sin’s toxin didn’t affect her physical conditioning, after all. And a few practices with a stick on the beach proved that her muscles had a rudimentary memory of her skills, even if her mind did not, though any special techniques she’d been once able to use were now gone. Still, the losses the blonde girl had taken — she hadn’t even known her own name!

It was Yuna’s first real glimpse of the effects of Sin’s horrible toxin, of what it was capable of doing to a person . . . And it was horrible.

This up close and personal view of what it truly meant to encounter Sin . . . She’d never imagined it could be so terrible. But it firmed Yuna’s resolve, in a way that maybe nothing else could. She had to stop it; she had to defeat Sin! Even if that ultimately meant that — that —

Yuna believed in Yevon, believed in bringing peace to Spira, whatever the cost. She’d accepted that, and the need for it, since she was a little girl, because it was what her father had believed — what he had died for. But she was seventeen, and there was a little corner of the young woman that whispered about what might have been, might still be, if she didn’t walk this path.

Normally, she could silence it with a simple question: “Would it be worth condemning everyone for that?” But she was still weak enough, every now and then, to wish . . .

Still, Yuna tried to keep a smile on her face — because tonight, everyone was happy. Tonight, the tragedy had been averted, the village still survived.

And this is why I will do this, Yuna told herself firmly. So that everyone can have more nights like tonight — both now, and in the future.

There was a rustle of movement behind her — Arturia, coming to sit beside Yuna at her place by the fire.

“Lady Summoner,” the blonde greeted coolly, and Yuna frowned.

“You don’t need to be so formal, Arturia,” she chided gently, before giving her a searching look. “. . . How are you feeling?”

“Still a bit overwhelmed,” the girl admitted. “There is much here that seems familiar, and much I do not recognise — and I must question whether or not anything I encounter is something that I knew before.” She grimaced. “The feeling is . . . Unsettling.”

“I can imagine,” Yuna said softly. “I’m sorry — I know it’s selfish of me, but I’d hoped to question you about Sir Auron, what he might have said about my father’s Pilgrimage . . . And now I can’t, and I feel bad about that — and worse about using you, like that.”

The blonde absorbed that in silence.

“I do not think I can fault you for that,” she said at last. “I imagine that it is quite natural, for a child to be curious about the father she barely knew . . . “

To Yuna, her eyes seemed focussed on some distant point, before Arturia shook her head, concluding, “I find it perfectly understandable, indeed. No, I am only sorry that I cannot give you what you wish of me.”

The sincerity in the blonde’s voice was surprising, and it made Yuna wonder aloud, “Do you . . . Have you remembered something, Arturia? You sounded like . . .” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to pry, but what you said just sounded” — Yuna hesitated, before finally saying — “personal to you.”

“. . . I have a suspicion,” Arturia said slowly, “that you and I are in some ways very much alike — but at the moment, it’s only that.” She gave another shake of her head. “In any case, do you mean to attempt the next ‘trial’ tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Yuna said quickly, seizing on the change of subject. “I guess we could’ve gone to the temple immediately — and maybe we should have, but I thought it would be better for us to rest, after . . . Well, after what happened.”

She couldn’t quite stop a flicker of guilt; both for bringing up her condition, and for holding back on acting to defeat Sin as quickly as possible, but Arturia’s response surprised her.

“A very practical plan,” the blonde said approvingly. “You are less likely to succeed if you are tired and disorganised, and given the stakes of this, it is important to do your best to optimise your chances for victory. I think I will enjoy following your command — and I will do my best not to hinder your progress.”

Yuna’s eyes widened. “You still mean to come with us, then? But — but why would you risk yourself like that?”

Arturia nodded. “It was the task I was entrusted with, was it not? Then I am still bound to try and fulfill it, diminished or not.”

“But . . .” Yuna stared. Given all that lay ahead, Arturia was still willing to proceed? She could be killed, and not even remember why!

“But — why are you willing to do this? It’s very dangerous, you don’t remember being told about it, or even why it would need to be done, and . . . And for all you know, we’re a bunch of strangers, who could be lying about it all!”

“Perhaps,” the blonde admitted with a shrug. “But if I choose to trust nothing, I will accomplish nothing — and then there is no purpose to my survival. If I choose to trust you, then I will follow the path I originally committed myself to, and perhaps recover something of what I’ve lost.

“At the very least, I will be more myself,” she concluded, “even if I do not yet recall who my ‘self’ is.”

Yuna blinked. Her guardians were her friends; people who had known her from childhood, who had always looked out for her, and for the sake of that friendship, and their faith in Yevon’s teachings, had offered to continue looking out for her during her Pilgrimage.

But Arturia was willing to follow her — and if necessary, to die for her — and for no other reason than that she thought it was the right thing to do.

The realisation of that, and the feelings it inspired, were — humbling.

“. . . Thank you, Arturia,” Yuna said quietly. “I will . . . I will try to make the risk worth it for you. I will do my best to succeed in this quest.”

Arturia smiled. “Ultimately, that is all that anyone can ask of anyone else, Lady . . . Yuna,” she corrected herself.

The blonde lapsed into a pensive silence, then, as though distracted by a sudden thought, or perhaps a fragment of a memory . . . But Yuna didn’t ask. She felt she had been offered quite enough, and to ask for any more would be rude.

It did make her wonder, though, what sort of person the girl had been — and hope that someday, she’d have the chance to find out.








Campsite, outside Bevelle








Rikku stared at the campfire contemplatively. So far, she had to admit, associating with Kurai was an adventure.

By this time yesterday, she’d been all excited over the idea of salvaging an airship, and now she was halfway across Spira! She’d managed to survive sea monsters, Sin, and a really big chocobo — and she was almost afraid to ask what tomorrow was going to be like!

Tomorrow, I’ll be in Luca, Rikku told herself. Kurai says that he can blip us over there tomorrow, just like he brought us to Macalania Woods. And then we’ll find Yuna, and then . . .

“And then” — that was the toughie. “And then” what, exactly?

You didn’t need to be a genius to know that Kurai had all kinds of secrets, but it helped; and since she was a genius, it was fairly obvious to her. There was just too much about him that was too strange not to notice. Some of it might be explained by the fact that he belonged to a long-lived race on an equally long-forgotten continent, but not all of it.

She went over the facts again in her mind.

He looks mostly human, but he’s got hair that’s more like a Guado’s, and pointy ears — so he’s probably right about the “different race” thing. I don’t know what else might qualify as unique to his people that way — but I’ll admit his eyes are nice to look at . . .

She shook her head, continuing her thoughts.

He was shipwrecked on or near that island, he said — fair enough, we didn’t really search it all, and there was plenty of wreckage around that could’ve belonged to his ship. But if his homeland is way in the northwest like he said, why would he be headed for Besaid? Wouldn’t somewhere like Bikanel, or even Zanarkand itself, be a better destination? They’re probably way closer to his home than Besaid — especially if it was Zanarkand he was trying to learn about.

And he speaks Al Bhed — when almost no one who isn’t an Al Bhed does. No one cares enough to learn.

She supposed that he might have wandered in Spira for a while; long enough to pick up on a few things, at least. He hadn’t actually said that he’d come directly from his homeland to Besaid, only that he’d been shipwrecked on the way to Besaid — he might have left port from somewhere else in Spira. It would explain how he knew about Sin, or Yevon, at all.

But then there’s his magic . . .

By nature, Rikku was more of a mechanic and alchemist than a historian — but you couldn’t really work in the kind of salvaging she did without learning something about Spira’s history. They generally had to dig up the machina they repaired, or rebuilt, after all. Which meant that they had to find them first, and that meant lots of research and rumour-hunting.

She wasn’t an expert on history by any means, much less magic — not like, say, that famous old guy, Maechen — but she knew bits and pieces of lore about both things. And what she did know was enough for her to recognise that Kurai’s magic just wasn’t like anything else used on Spira.

He casts elemental spells — OK, pretty much anybody can do that. He summons, which means he’s a Summoner — but he doesn’t seem to call Aeons, which shouldn’t be possible . . . And he “teleports,” as he called it, which is a magic I’ve never heard of. He also implies that he can fly — OK, gravity magic might be able to let him do that . . . I mean, we were digging up an airship, so people could fly, once upon a time.

But he also talked about travelling magically “via plants” — and I have no idea how that would even work!

On some levels, the blonde girl reflected, it might be explained away by time. Looking at the machina that had existed in the time before Sin, Rikku was at least a tiny bit aware of just how much capability Spira had lost in the last thousand years. If there was a country that had never had to deal with Sin, never been forced to give up all that progress, then what might they be capable of, with a thousand years of further research and development behind them?

Logically, it did explain a lot of what Kurai had shown that he was capable of so far, especially if he’d somehow mastered some of the Lost Arts. Like Geomancy, say, or the Arcana of the legendary Dark Knights — all the forgotten magic styles that had been eclipsed by the Church of Yevon, over the centuries . . . Or more specifically, by the Summoners.

. . . But what’s with his searching for Yuna?

That was something that Rikku just couldn’t explain, no matter how hard she tried. Why was he trying to get to Yuna — to be her guardian? Sure, as the daughter of High Summoner Braska, people would see her as a likely successor to his position — but why would he be interested? Just because he was trying to observe a Pilgrimage, and thought she had the best chance of making it all the way? So that he could report back to his people about all the gory details of what kind of mess Spira had gotten into? She didn’t want to think he was really that cold . . . But again, why Yuna, specifically?

It was a puzzle she couldn’t solve, and Rikku wasn’t really used to those . . . But she eventually gave up, and prepared to go to sleep. Hopefully, things would be clearer in the morning — but one thing was crystal clear to her, right this minute.

Cute or not, if he tries to hurt Yuna, I’m going to give him a whole lot worse than a kick in the shin . . .








Kurai waited, listening for the change in breathing rhythm that indicated Rikku had fallen asleep. Once it had occurred, he quietly began to undertake the necessary measures to keep her safe in his absence.

Unfortunately, as he presently lacked animal companions, having them keep watch wasn’t an option, but he’d chosen this campsite — which was off the main road and against a large, freestanding stone — for good reason. He could shape and anchor a wall of stone to the rock, creating a towering, six-inch-thick ring of stone to surround her, and then cover that with a wall of thorns coaxed from the grasses surrounding it, including a bramble “roof” to ward off flying fiends.

The defences were hardly impenetrable, and a poor substitute for an able sentry — but the druid judged that they ought to deter any all but the most hardy of creatures, and serve adequately until he returned.

If everything goes well, this shouldn’t take long — of course, I can’t assume that, either. Whether as Kurai, Kieran, or my original life, reality has shown a distressing tendency to kick me in the ass when I start getting overconfident. Regardless of that, though, I have an Unsent to deal with. And the sooner, the better.

He set a word of recall, to bring him back here in a hurry, before another murmured spell took him to Mushroom Rock Road, miles to the south.

Personally, Kurai found that literally moving through the Spiran continent like this was . . . Well, odd. It was like sinking into quicksand, only to find where he’d wanted to go at the bottom of it. Odd or not, though, it worked - so he certainly wouldn’t complain. A moment’s concentration on his cloak clasp gave him the location of the caves, the presence of all the fiends in the area, and — humans? Too many to be travellers, at this hour, and all concentrated in one area . . .

Oh, bugger — the Crimson Squad’s already here!

Banishing the surge of panic the realisation brought, Kurai began changing his form. The ability of a thousand faces allowed him to add seven inches to his height, and a full hundred pounds to his weight, all the while remaining cosmetic changes, so far as his abilities were concerned. That ought to be a sufficient disguise, if he was somehow spotted.

Furthermore, he used his wild shape ability to become an earth elemental, blank-faced and composed of jagged stone. Now he could burrow through stone, faster than any human could move — and unimpeded by the obstacles that would hinder them. Since the door that concealed Shuyin’s resting place was sealed by a technological door, rather than a magical one (a blank spot, in the spell’s sense of his surroundings), he knew exactly where to go, and could probably beat them all to it.

But more importantly, to all intents and purposes, he was now just another fiend — a unique one, perhaps, but nothing that could eventually be connected to the dusky-skinned guardian of Lady Yuna. It would mean that he couldn’t use any of his signature equipment, either, and ought to avoid using spells — but nothing he did here would be traced back to her, now or in the future.

I’m just glad that Rin and Sakura could copy the glamer enchantment on my clothes to the rest of my equipment, the druid reflected. Walking around with a scimitar, spell pouches, and bag in full view would be a tipoff, otherwise.

As it was, the gear would remain hidden, melded into his new form, unless he willfully suppressed the enchantment; which he probably would have to, if it came to a fight. He was trying to avoid that, though.

Kurai sank into the earth, and zipped straight towards the door that concealed Shuyin’s cavern, as quickly as Bugs Bunny — though unlike the rabbit, the druid-turned-elemental left no mark of his passage (nor was there an Albuquerque to not turn left at). Reaching the cavern immediately, Kurai emerged from the ground, and rechecked everything.

The Crimson Squad’s still dealing with the local fiends — none of them have reached this far, yet. And I don’t intend that they ever will.

The druid examined the door. It was designed to open with the insertion of ten Crimson Spheres — each borne by a member of the squad. Beyond it was a mass of pyreflies, tormenting whatever remained of Shuyin — or maybe it was him, Kurai wasn’t entirely sure. Regardless, it meant that at least one the Maesters was aware of this place and what it contained; why else would someone build the door?

Although, why send the Squad here, either . . .?

Kurai frowned, really wishing he’d finished the game — but if he did this right, he supposed that their motivations wouldn’t actually matter.

The first spell he cast was an earthquake, at the very edge of his range — nearly a quarter-mile away. It collapsed an eighty-foot radius of the cavern ceiling, barring access to this far, without heavy digging equipment. Next, a rusting grasp rendered the iron in the door (and more importantly, the bolts that kept it closed) rusted, pitted, and nearly impossible to open. A wall of stone spell covered the door itself, effectively burying the entire wall of the cavern under six inches of rock.

Kurai sighed. So far, he still had a good chunk of his magical reserves left — but so far he hadn’t really done much that would stop a determined digger, either. If the Yevonites really wanted in, he didn’t doubt that they could manage it; they had advanced technology hidden away, after all.

But he had some time, now. He very much doubted that the Crimson Squad was equipped to dig through over fifty yards of rubble to get here; they were outfitted to be a combat unit, not a mining crew. Even if they could, it ought to buy him enough time — the trick would be facing Shuyin with whatever fraction of his reserves were left.

If you want this done right, you’ll have to, he reminded himself.

Nodding grimly, the druid went to work, visualising the shape he needed in his mind. “Soften earth and stone.” With a pulse of magic, eight hundred and forty cubic feet of stone became clay. He repeated the process several times, finishing with, “Move earth.”

This was the tricky part — because it was slow. Eventually, he’d be able to move it all, but it took the course of hours to do it. It was like moving a glacier of earth at appropriate speeds, but it could be done . . .

Four hours and ten minutes later, the first 7500 cubic feet of clay had been raised to reach the ceiling. The addition of water sprayed in a heavy blast from his decanter transformed the clay into mud, and a quick transmute mud to rock rendered the mass into solid, unbroken stone. A second transmute rock to mud and transmute mud to rock combination caused what little of the ceiling the raised stone hadn’t reached melt down to touch the column — and fuse with it, via the second spell.

It wouldn’t be something that he could accomplish in one night, unfortunately; Rikku would eventually wake, and he’d need to be back before that happened. But as soon as he’d seen her safely to Luca, he could likely come back and continue working on this immediately — Yuna ought to be out at sea by then, en route to Kilika or Luca, herself. He’d have time to spare a few hours for this.

Eventually, once he was finished, this chamber would be entombed beneath hundreds of yards of solid stone, such that it would be necessary to blast most of the entire structure apart to get to it. Between that and the rubble up ahead, it would make doing so a massive undertaking, and unthinkable without the use of munitions or mining equipment that would be almost impossible to conceal, even for the Church.

And while they might be evil and self-serving, they were a practical sort, as well. If the reward didn’t justify the effort, they wouldn’t bother with it — and the kind of heavy mining this would require would almost certainly be more trouble than it was worth.

It wasn’t that Kurai wouldn’t still attempt to fight Shuyin, once it was all done. None of these measures would stop an earth elemental, after all, so he’d be able to enter the Unsent’s prison easily enough — and Spira would be better off with the vengeful wraith dispersed or destroyed. But if for some reason it didn’t prove possible, then doing what he could take make sure that the entity remained trapped for at least another thousand years only made sense.

The druid used the power of the clasp again, and confirmed that there was still no sign of the Crimson Squad anywhere in the immediate vicinity. He supposed that made sense; they might be an elite squad, but you wouldn’t test them out by dropping them into an area that was light on fiends, after all. You’d use a snake pit, an absolute nightmare of a location, to see if they really were the best of the best.

Either way, it left him with a choice: he could leave now, rest up, and be fully revitalised tomorrow — or he could stay, and complete another section of the stonework. His lycanthropic stamina and general conditioning ought to carry him through the lack of sleep, but without eight hours of rest, he’d be unable to recharge his magical energies, and be forced to rely on what he had left right now for the day.

Then again, there hasn’t really been much call for spells thus far, and it would represent barely an eighth of my total reserves. A fraction of my energies and a sleepless night versus another two hundred and fifty yards of stone sealing Shuyin off from the world . . .

Yeah, I think it’s worth the risk, this time.

With that decided, Kurai resumed working. The millennium-old undead blitzball player wasn’t going to wall himself up, after all.








Spiran Sea, unknown coordinates








Once, lifetimes ago, he had been the ruler of a mighty city-state, whose mastery of magic was unsurpassed. However, in his efforts to preserve his kingdom, he had broken himself under a strain no human mind could bear.

In the intervening centuries, the programmed directives he had attempted to guide with his will had burned throughout what remained of the king, fusing with the unconscious reflexes of his mind to becoming a driving instinct that was beyond any concept thought, or reason. He gave no more consideration or direction to his actions than another man did to his heartbeat — it simply was. He had worn many forms, through the passage of time, and this was simply the latest of his incarnations.

The people of this world called him “Sin,” without exception, but only a chosen few would also know him as “Yu Yevon.”

He was the saviour and destroyer, both — the origin of the spiral of death.

The consciousness of Yevon was an echo of the human king, bound by the magic which had shaped the armour of Sin. That magic — a working which had never been surpassed, and was only faintly repeated in the summoning of the Final Aeon — bound Sin to the protection of Yu Yevon’s phantom kingdom, at any cost, and to the destruction of any major population centre, as they would likely prove a threat.

When Sin’s shell proved insufficient to the task, the magic compelled Yevon to seek a replacement in the superior creation that was its destroyer — and to eliminate the Summoner who created it, lest they somehow wrench control of the Aeon from him, or dismiss it into nothingness — or create a greater one, to oppose him.

Of course, the Final Aeon’s own will hampered this — assimilation was a lengthy process, requiring periods of dormancy to fully accomplish — but these “Calms” were equally necessary, to the ensure that the system remained viable, that the Sin armour continued to evolve into ever-stronger configurations. Only then would Sin continue to be the supreme guardian it was required to be . . .

And yet, Aeons existed which had not been created by a Summoner that had passed the Trials. One of them had existed, and Yevon had pursued it, as its programming dictated it must confront any powerful threat — but it then vanished. And then a second Aeon, even more powerful than the first, had fought him — damaged him — sufficiently to force a retreat.

The remnants of Yu Yevon’s will and consciousness hesitated for the first time in centuries, unsure of what to do. The programs which guided him — and Sin — did not account for these deviations in the system. A Summoner was supposed to pass the Trials — gain experience and skill in their art enough to craft a sufficiently powerful Final Aeon.

The system had been designed for it, and over the course of a thousand years, had continued unbroken . . . Until now.

Now, two Aeons had emerged which were deviations in the system, which held far more power than ought to be expected, or possible, for any but the Final Aeon — and yet, neither of these met the required parameters to be the Final Aeon. The contradiction paralysed him.

Finally, however, Yevon and the program worked through the logic error. All non-Final Aeons came from Dream Zanarkand. Unknown Aeons were therefore necessarily the result of damage to, or an intrusion on, Dream Zanarkand. The protection of Dream Zanarkand was mandated by Sin’s primary directive, so an immediate return to Dream Zanarkand was necessary to repel intruders. Its course therefore set, the mighty behemoth returned to its hidden charge, now endangered by forces unknown.

However, Yevon created a secondary directive based upon Sin’s programming.

Hunt down and destroy rogue Aeons. If destruction is not possible, then subsume in accordance with Final Aeon response protocols.

[Xamusel]

And... shit just got real.

[Kieran]

DISCLAIMER: Lunar Legend Tsukihime, Fate/Stay Night, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Kinoko Nasu and Type-Moon, along with anyone who's happened to license them, like Geneon or Funimation. Dungeons and Dragons is the creation of Gary Gygax et al, and the Forgotten Realms are the creation of Ed Greenwood. Both are owned by Wizards of the Coast. Final Fantasy X, X-2, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Square-Enix, along with their employees Tetsuya Nomura, Yoshitaka Amano, and all the others who usually have a hand in developing their games.

This is a not-for-profit, just-for-fun project.








Kilika Woods








Arturia did her best to play the amnesiac as they journeyed towards the temple. It irked her, a little, to have to make her cuts seem more floundering, less skilled — but such was her skill that she could do it. And as her strength had no reason to seem unchanged, there was no denying that her blows were still effective.

Indeed, in a way this was an ideal opportunity to build experience and teamwork among her fellow guardians. She still disapproved of much of their preferences — particularly since the only healing spell in her repertoire was relatively minor — but so far, they seemed to work reasonably well as a unit, in spite of that.

More to the point, Arturia was learning their strengths and weaknesses.

Wakka was best employed against flying foes, but his specific techniques were useful if they had a need to blind or silence an enemy. Kimahri needed exposure to a wide variety of foes to get the best use of his “Lancet” ability, but the potential he represented was significant, because of that. Lulu was what modern parlance called an “artillery piece,” and thus best kept to the rear, behind two hardier companions. Yuna’s primary use to the group was as a healer, but her Aeon held significant battle strength — and likely, future ones would, as well.

And as for herself, well . . .

“HA — AAAAH!” Arturia yelled, as her blade cleaved through yet another foe. As it dissolved into motes of light (pyreflies, she reminded herself), she turned. “Battle complete, Lady Yuna.”

Her replacement sword had apparently belonged to Wakka’s brother; he’d brought it with him, despite having no use for it, as a symbolic token. Still, given that it was useful to her, she could hardly complain of his impracticality.

Lulu remarked coolly, “The loss of your memories doesn’t appear to have affected your prowess, much.”

“Well, it isn’t as though I’m an invalid,” Arturia responded easily. “I remain in perfect health, which apparently implies considerable physical ability. And I have a hazy recollection of being told about ‘muscle memory’ — through repetition, the body is trained to respond a specific way, under the proper circumstances, until it becomes a reflex.”

“Dat’s true,” Wakka noted. “We train like dat in the Aurochs — the same move over and over, ‘til you don’t have to think about it anymore.”

“Hmph.” The black mage said nothing more, and Arturia restrained a sigh. It appeared that she would still have to be on her guard against Lulu’s scrutiny, though she was at a loss to explain the other woman’s continual antagonism.

Rin might grasp it, Arturia thought. If only I could consult her about it.

They met with a number of Crusaders on the path, who warned them of a powerful fiend lurking about. Knowing “powerful” to be a relative term, she wasn’t too worried — though it would be well to have the rest of them learn vigilance . . .

While keeping her senses attuned to their environment, the knight wondered again at the druid’s absence. While far less competent than he apparently believed himself to be, the man was not without some resources. She knew that one of his enchanted items had a teleport capability — a limited use, but it meant that he should have appeared somewhere nearby by now . . .

If he was truly endangered, Ilyasviel would have contacted me by now, Arturia reasoned. As she did not, it implies that whatever his current whereabouts or activities, it’s nothing to be concerned about . . .

But as he was — and is — supposed to be here, how can I not be concerned?

She could call Ilyasviel. The Grail spirit was doubtless monitoring them both, as she always did when they were out in the field, and the answers to Arturia’s questions would no doubt be easily obtained — but given the present company, that was currently impractical. As solid and realistic as she was within Avalon’s confines, Ilyasviel was only a spirit. Her manifestations beyond that plane of existence resembled a “Force ghost,” according to the druid, whatever that meant.

Regardless, she was quite clearly spectral, and under the circumstances, her sudden appearance would be highly alarming, to say nothing of the risk it would pose to their code of secrecy. No, consulting Ilyasviel as to what the bloody hell was taking him so long would have to wait. Perhaps, if the temple’s setup was similar to Besaid’s, she could sneak away to contact —

“Lord Ochu!” cried a Crusader up ahead, just as a thick, vine-like tendril swatted him into a tree.

Arturia felt a small smile tug at her lips. One thing that had to be said in favour of this world — whenever she started feeling truly frustrated, there was always something popping up for her to take it out on.

Nevertheless, she held herself back from leaping directly into the fray. Firstly, she did so continue to play up her “amnesiac” image, and reinforce the belief she wasn’t wholly certain of what she was doing, and secondly, because she knew that it was important that the others gain seasoning and experience, as well.

If it truly came down to it, the former king knew, she could probably carry Yuna to the end of her Pilgrimage alone — but religious pilgrimages were as much about the trials and enlightenment that came along the way. Presumably, Yuna needed to hone herself in the wielding of her powers before she was prepared to master something new — Arturia could not deprive her of that, if no one else.

Nevertheless, should a finishing blow be required, I shall be prepared — and no doubt, successful.

As it turned out, it wasn’t — though she did make the tactical point that Valefor, who fought while in flight, would be better employed than they would once the fiend began using earthquakes as an attack. Yuna’s response was immediate, and her direction of the Aeon swift. In virtually no time, the fiend fell, and the party found themselves surrounded by awed Crusaders.

The experience recalled many similar ones, on battlefields far away in both distance and time, and Arturia felt an odd sense of wistfulness.

Some of them are no older than Shirou, but still dedicated to this fight, despite eight hundred years of failure . . . Had I a wish to recreate my kingdom, I would ask for no more than these to begin with.

It was part of the reason she was displeased with her current group, really. Wakka described himself as a “part-time” guardian, which implied a lack of dedication — and what little she’d been able to gather on the mage before being inserted here stated that this was the third Pilgrimage in which she’d taken part. Both of the others had died before reaching the end. That also implied a lack of dedication, in addition to a lack of competence or courage — or both — because she ought to have died for or with her Summoner, instead. The Ronso, she did not know well enough to judge yet, but the record of the two other people was disturbing.

Either they are serious in their desire to accomplish this task, or they are not. If they are not, then they should not be here. They will only serve as a distraction, at best — and at worst, an outright liability.

Arturia’s resolve hardened. She might have decreased the tensions between them by playing the amnesiac, but nothing had really changed about the core problem. It was necessary to demonstrate to them just how serious this task was, the difficulty of the challenges which lay ahead.

Now, how can I best accomplish that . . .?








Avalon Castle, Phantasmagoria Island








Ilya, while physically manifested as the castle’s “seneschal” (or “office secretary,” for a more accurate description of her actual role) was physically and spiritually bound to the Holy Grail — contained within its own chamber in the chapel — and to the island demiplane as an absolute boundary.

That said, however, she was, on some levels, everywhere.

As such, she could observe Sakura and Rider leading their detachment home, observe any number of weak points in reality (several of them) where a Door might be formed with a little push of effort on her part, or need on someone else’s, and Kurai and Saber on their current mission. Shiki and Arcueid were, unfortunately, blocked from her senses — but she was still working on that.

And as a consequence of being able to observe practically everywhere at once, Ilya got bored very easily. Finding that she didn’t have anything better to do for the moment (at least nothing that would be an effective use of her time) Ilya shrugged mentally and let her concentration slide to another concern — her own pet project:

She was reviewing various types of resurrection, reincarnation, and reconstitution methods for returning her soul to a body, trying to determine which one she’d prefer.

Of course, I suppose I could always ask Kurai to reincarnate me. It’s not as though I wasn’t the victim of an unnatural and unnecessary death, so it wouldn’t be against his beliefs to try, and my soul would hardly be unwilling to come back if he called it . . .

The only question is, what would I come back as?

She shook her head, remembering that Saber had come back as a dragon when he’d used it on her. Granted, the former ruler had become a species of dragon capable of taking human form — but Ilya suspected Shirou might find it hard to fall in love with her when whatever she looked like, she really amounted to several thousand pounds of reptile. That was probably the core of Saber’s problem with her new nature, as well.

But even if Shirou could look past all that, I’ve seen what half-dragons are supposed to look like, when dragons breed with humanoids. And as ridiculously open-minded as Shirou can be, I have to think that even he would be at least a little put off when our children were born with scales . . .

Ilya shook her head again. Granted, a dragon was only one of many near-limitless possibilities of living creatures that she could end up becoming — but reincarnation, as Kurai practised it, was always a crap shoot. And there were things in her karma that she suspected would not reflect well in her next form, if she chose to go that route.

No, the Grail spirit decided, it would be much better for her to try and make a new, one-hundred-percent human body from scratch.

On the idea of actually crafting a body, the former magus considered the usefulness of a gigai. Similar to the magus Touko Aozaki’s creations, or so she’d heard, a gigai was meant (according to the cosmology of the anime “Bleach”) to be a temporary body for powerless Soul Reapers — a physical shell to anchor their spiritual forms, and allow them to rest and recover their energy.

According to what information she had, they functioned more or less at a human level, and could be styled to virtually any appearance. Magic (at least, the type that Soul Reapers used) was accessible within the gigai. There was no hard data on just how biologically accurate they were — but if Isshin Kurosaki was an example, than it was possible that they functioned as completely as she wanted. The man had three children, after all.

Still, Ilya frowned at the thought. She wasn’t sure that a gigai would precisely serve her purposes — her soul was more or less bound to the Grail, and thus, couldn’t be inserted into one. She needed a vessel less for her soul than for her conscious mind. Effectively, the part of her that was the Grail would “sleep,” allowing her to “dream” her physical self.

She could always recreate her homunculus form, she supposed; she knew how to craft those. But the inherent flaws and limitations outweighed the benefits, as did the idea of materialising herself in the manner of a Servant, which she could also do.

Though maybe if Shirou was willing to be my Master . . .

Ilya shook the pleasant fantasy out of her head. She couldn’t be certain that a gigai would serve her needs unless she at least had a chance to examine one. She made a mental note to see if she could find a “Bleach” universe in trouble — maybe they’d let them take one as payment.

But in the meantime, Ilya resolved that she would continue to research other potential methods of returning herself to a corporeal form. While she was physical here, she was effectively little more than a ghost elsewhere, which had more than a few drawbacks. It would be nice to be able to really leave the office.

. . . And more importantly, someone else might land Shirou if she didn’t move quickly. Sakura had the lead for now, and Rin might back off, given their history (or maybe not, given her stubbornness), but Ilya certainly didn’t intend to.

Shaking her head again, Ilya turned her mind away from the impasse of trying to restore herself (for now), and back to the problems at hand. She’d have to make another run at that blasted computer system (and they really needed someone with more modern technical expertise, she’d decided), and consider how to deal with a few more of these problems that were piling up . . .

Once again, the idea of trying to summon a Servant sprang to mind. It was a tempting option — but assuming that she could manage to do it in the first place (not guaranteed, with the conclusion of the Grail War), which one?

Who can I get for the least amount of energy? Probably someone connected to me, which means Berserker (handy if we need more power, but he’s not big on subtlety), Shirou as Archer (and having two of Shirou is probably a bad idea — well, once I get my body back, maybe on my birthday. . .), and — no. One of Kurai is bad enough; we really don’t need two of him, either.

Though it’s odd, that he’s listed as a “Mediator” — I didn’t know that there was a class type by that title . . . Hey — not only that, but there are two Servants of that class? What’s the other one like . . .?








Luca







Rikku blinked as the sea air blew its way into her nostrils, not to mention the sudden appearance of buildings, crowds . . . Yep, this was definitely Luca. Once again, they’d travelled hundreds of miles in a blink.

“Are you sure you can’t teach me that trick?” Rikku begged, going for her best “pleading eyes” look. It hadn’t worked on her dad when she’d wanted that chocobo, but it usually did the trick for anything else.

Kurai just shook his head. “Sorry, Rikku — you just don’t have the temperament for my kind of magic.” He also muttered something about “mystic eyes” and “sad puppy,” but she didn’t catch enough of it to comprehend it. The important part, to her, was that she still couldn’t learn it.

Rats!

Sighing, she shrugged. “OK . . . So, now what do we do?”

Kurai blinked. “The easiest thing to do would be to wait around for Yuna. She’s travelling here on a ship with the Besaid Aurochs and the Luca Goers, so she ought to be here in time for the blitzball tournament —”

“Which is two whole days away,” Rikku pointed out, even as she was inwardly wondering just how he knew that. “You really can’t think of anything for us to do between now and then?”

Something flashed behind his eyes, then, but she couldn’t read it. Regardless, he shook his head, drawing another sigh out of her.

“Well . . .” Rikku tilted her head in thought. “If we’re lucky, the Al Bhed Psyches are in town already — wanna go see?”

He shrugged, which she took as assent, grabbing his arm. “C’mon, then — let’s go!”

Personally, she wasn’t really interested in meeting the Psyches, though she wouldn’t refuse if the option came up, either. Like Rin, they were Al Bhed that had managed to earn some level of acceptance from the Yevonites, without giving up their core beliefs — which was always something to be admired and encouraged, in her opinion.

But in this particular instance, Rikku was far more interested in not letting Kurai slip away just yet (not until she’d figured out at least some of his secrets), so she’d use any excuse she could get away with in order to keep him in her company.

Besides, the way Pop goes out of his way to discourage the few boys I actually want to have talk to me, this might be the closest that I’ll ever get to a real date, she thought sardonically.

So she took him around the city. It had been a while since Rikku had last been to Luca — but just about everybody made their way there at least once in their lives. Granted, she was usually more interested in the sphere theatre than the blitzball stadium, but she still knew her way around. And she was almost more interested in watching him than the city; in watching his reactions.

From what she could tell, he didn’t particularly seem to like the place, but she wasn’t exactly sure why. His eyes were constantly and casually moving around, taking everything in, and his arm muscles were slightly tense in her grip (and wow — were they ever hard!), like he was expecting to be attacked . . .

“It’s OK,” Rikku said quietly. “Things are a little more relaxed in Luca, especially this close to the tournament — nobody’s liable to attack us.”

Not that some of them wouldn’t, she was sure — some people just plain hated Al Bhed above and beyond what even Yevon inspired — but it wasn’t likely. He didn’t need to be on guard every minute, expecting a bloodthirsty mob to be waiting every time they turned a corner.

“Meaning that they might attack us elsewhere?” Kurai inquired carefully. “Is it for good reason that your people developed the ‘hospitality’ that they have, then — or are we likely to be attacked because of it?”

She winced. “I said I was sorry already . . .” Seeking to change the subject, Rikku added, “My people aren’t exactly well-liked — we disagree with the Church of Yevon on a lot of things, and most people in Spira follow Yevon’s teachings, so . . .”

Kurai nodded. “I’m familiar with the type of dispute. No doubt I, too, would be a heretic.”

“Oh?” Rikku responded lightly, trying to sound casual, and hide her burning curiosity. Here was another chance to pry some of his secrets out of him! “Why’s that, exactly?”

“Aside from my appearance, you mean?” Kurai asked with a raised eyebrow. “Your brethren believed me to be a fiend on our first meeting, did they not?”

Rikku frowned. “Well, yeah, but . . .” Personally, she thought he looked yummy — all sleek, hard muscle combined with incredible suppleness and grace, like a cat that had been turned mostly into a human . . .

But, forcing herself to be objective about it, she supposed most people would see the odd hair colour and pointed ears as evidence of his being a fiend. In that respect, she supposed that Wed’j and B’iggs had had a genuine point when they attacked him — though they’d still gone too far.

“Besides,” Kurai continued in a serious tone, “depending on the tenets of the faith, I suspect that I, too, would ‘disagree’ with the Church.”

“About what?” she queried.

“All kinds of things,” he said coldly, and she found herself shivering, despite the bright, warm sunshine. He sounded almost angry at Yevon — but if he really didn’t know anything about it, then why . . . ?

Rikku’s stomach growled at that moment, reminding her that as tasty and filling as those berries Kurai carried around were, regular meals were a good thing, too. Remembering a café not far away, she changed course and led him to it. It was, of course, quite full (wasn’t it always when you really needed food fast?), but they did manage to find a table.

Kurai offered to sit and watch her seat while she ordered, handing her some Gil from his bag to cover his own expenses, and saying that he trusted her tastes. The compliment was kind of nice, but she couldn’t help wondering how everything he carried around fit in that bag, because he seemed to have an awful lot of stuff in there . . .

Eventually, though, her stomach burst in with another reminder that overrode her curiosity — hungry!

While it took some doing to remember that what Gil they had was going to have to last for at least a couple of days, Rikku managed to restrain herself from going overboard on the orders, or the sugar. Honestly, being constantly perky was an awful lot of work, sometimes — it really was essential to have something that would help sweeten her disposition, every now and then. In fact, it was an absolute necessity in order for her to maintain her function as everybody’s unofficial mascot!

. . . Well, that was her excuse, anyway — and she was sticking with it.

When the server had finally finished loading up her tray, Rikku turned to reorient herself on the location of their table, and froze. There was Kurai, all right — he was unmistakable, even with the hood of his cloak up — but there was someone else at the table, too, talking to him. From her current distance, she could only make out that he was a black-haired man, in a long, red coat — and that monster of a sword leaning up against the wall beside them just had to be his.

Who the heck is this guy . . .?








Home, Bikanel Island








“Hi, Pop!” Rikku’s image greeted him cheerily. “If Brother’s made it back, he’s probably all wound up about me being washed overboard by Sin, and how I’m probably dead — but I’m OK, promise! Turns out the guy we picked up near the ruins isn’t just cute, he’s got a knack for getting out of nasty situations, too — and he took me along for the ride.”

Cid, leader of the Al Bhed, was a gruff, no-nonsense man, obeyed and respected because he was a man who worked hard to hold his people together through hard times and situations. Despite the majority of the world having it in for them, the Al Bhed had survived and even prospered under his leadership, something that didn’t happen because of his being soft, indecisive, or flinching at the hard stuff.

Therefore, the full-body twitch that ran through his frame at hearing his baby girl call someone “cute” had to be an optical illusion. A mirage brought on by the desert sun. It just had to be.

“Anyways,” Rikku continued, “he was looking to get to Besaid so he could be one of Yuna’s guardians . . . At least, I think so. I’m not really sure what all he’s up to and it’s complicated to explain. Anyways, I’m going to tag along and meet Yunie, and I’ll see you again in Luca, probably — that’s where he figures we’ll catch up with her. After that, well . . . We’ll see what happens.”

There were two ways to take that statement. First, that Rikku wasn’t sure whether or not to grab Yuna on first sight and call for a lift to the Summoners’ Sanctum they were maintaining, or second, that she wasn’t sure whether or not to grab this kid and hang on to him.

Cid wasn’t sure which one he found less appealing — not that he didn’t want Yuna safe (half-blood or not, she was family), but the idea of just snatching her off the streets left a bad taste in his mouth. He’d prefer a gentler option, if there was one; to try and persuade her first, maybe.

But the second way to take Rikku’s statement . . . He shuddered internally. That didn’t even bear thinking about.

“But anyways, you don’t need to worry at all, OK? I’m perfectly fine, Kurai’s really good at keeping me safe, and nothing bad will happen. I know you’ll probably worry any way, but remember, I can take care of myself. After all, I’m not a little girl anymore. Bye, Pop — see you in Luca!”

Cid absorbed that statement, and all its implications, in silence. He did his best to consider what he’d heard both as the leader of the Al Bhed hearing it from a trusted and respected member of his people, and as a father hearing it from his precocious, fifteen-year-old only daughter.

In the end, both sides of him agreed — if for somewhat different reasons — that there was only one reasonable response to Rikku’s message.

“How fast can we be ready to head for Luca?” he demanded sharply.

His tone of voice implied that the answer had better be, “We were ready an hour ago, sir.”

“Thirty minutes,” his son replied.

“You’ve got fifteen,” Cid returned. His glare cut off any protest, and the boy hurried to obey.

Cid’s mind, meanwhile, was already reaching ahead. The Travel Agency’s messaging system could pass word along to any Al Bhed in Luca to expect Rikku — along with instructions on what to do when they encountered her. His little princess was a smart one, but she was also wandering Spira alone — or maybe not, and that idea was worse.

And Cid’s concern didn’t have anything to do with the fact that she was with a boy she called “cute” (well, not entirely, at least). After all, Wed’j and B’iggs had reported that this “Kurai” was a psychotic mage who’d taken them both out with one spell — by putting himself in the blast zone! The mere idea of Rikku travelling with somebody that crazy . . . !

Cid took a deep breath. They’d take the fastest craft they had, and meet Rikku in Luca, where her father could personally make sure she was safe. And if that maniac had so much as harmed a hair on her head, his hide would be made into new leather upholstery for Cid’s favourite chair. . .

And if Rikku had done something, like that last bit had implied she was thinking about, and he’d taken advantage of her — there wouldn’t be enough of him left to use for upholstery.

[Xamusel]

What's the deal with Kurai and Auron? You have any ideas?

[Kieran]

Have you forgotten . . .?

[Xamusel]

Kinda... yes.

[Kieran]

Guess you'll just have to wait 'til tomorrow, then.

[Xamusel]

Point taken.