Hands, suddenly pouring from the farplane reached for her. She was stuck in place; even the air in her throat refused to move.
Just before they touched her, she knew she was safe. She knew those hands. She knew him. She wanted to be touched, just once more, even if it were nothing more than pyreflies.
It wasn’t what she thought. He wasn’t reaching to trace along her face and pull his hand back the way he used to.
His fingers touched her, skin to skin, death to life, and she was suddenly somewhere else.
She was lost in a tempestual mix of images and sounds. She couldn’t separate pieces clearly. People were creaming, there were flashes of things, there was movement, and there was blood…
She didn’t know she was screaming. She didn’t know she was falling. She didn’t feel Tidus catch her. She barely saw the angry guard motion towards the farplane. All that she saw clearly were the hands—his hands—vanish into pyreflies before the images hit her mind again in an avalanche and she screamed without knowing it again.
She felt no real physical pain, save the intense headache of the visions, but now, seeing them again, they made no more sense save for two things: there were scenes, blurring together, overlapping like pages of a book all read together and some parts seemed to run into another like paint.
Someone was screaming… someone else was yelling… at the very end, she saw why it had hit her: She saw one image, overlapped with several others. If anyone said anything, it was either drowned out by other pieces, or the sound had yet to define itself.
What was at first pieces of blue and blood and nothing more distinguishable became a clear few seconds and Yuna kept screaming.
Seymour, bruised and stained with layers of scratches and slices, bruises, plastered with old blood form his wounds, and suffering from a broken jaw—maybe more—his eyes growing glassy, a wave of blood dripping from his mouth as something moving fast went through his neck.
Somewhere, in the midst of it all, over the whole scene, she saw flowers—delicate, soft blossoms, all pearl white with a sheen of blue—his mother’s favorite color.
"No!" She screamed, over and over, waiting for her mind to slowly clear from the impact of what she saw. Eventually, she began to hear herself, and the other’s around her.
She heard people calling her name. She felt movement. She wasn’t walking.
"…He really is dead…" she said as her mind’s own defenses took over and she was enveloped in nothing.
Nothing… no sound… no sight… no thoughts… sweet nothing… like he used to use to banish all the nightmares, real or just in memory.
It was a way to hide, not to escape, but it’d do for now.
%%%
Why? Why did you abandon me? Why did you have to find home in a cold, blind, unfeeling, uncaring temple when such places scared you so?
Why did you leave me?
I could have saved you… if you’d only asked…if I’d only said so.
No.
No, the only way to keep you with me would be to break your legs.
I can’t keep you trapped here on this island. I couldn’t keep you where you felt hated. I could as a child, but…
Why didn’t you take me with you?
Why?
%%%
"I found you!" she said, pushing the bushes aside. She always knew where he was hiding, no matter where he was, no matter how far or how hard, she knew.
He uncurled from his ball. He’d been on the island for years, but was only now beginning to speak again. It had hardly been a year since she’d taught him to be brave enough to dare it.
Children treated the way he had been were just a myth on the island. He’d shattered it and no one ever knows how to deal with a myth when it’s a reality. The villagers alternated between giving him lots of space and doting upon him, which only made him fear them from the confusion it caused.
"Come see," she said, and grabbed the tips of his fingers lightly. No one touched him the way Yuna ever did. Never so gently. Never in a way that he felt there was nothing to be afraid of.
He followed and she kept her hand on the tip of his.
He never spoke when he thought his expression or his silence could speak for him.
"It’s a secret," she said, seeing his puzzled and worried expression.
"Surprise," he quietly corrected.
"No, it’s a secret," she said. "Can’t tell no one else, okay? Just for you and me."
He followed her silently. She was stealthy enough to keep any adults from finding her until she wanted to be found, but compared to him she crashed through the jungle. He didn’t know what she was taking him to see, but he trusted her and she knew it. She never abused how much he trusted her. He never asked her why she wanted so eagerly to show him something she wanted to keep so hidden, but he knew that already. For her, they were like two separate halves in different bodies. There was nothing she wouldn’t tell him, nothing she didn’t want to protect him against, nothing she didn’t seem to be able to read from his face, even if she weren’t looking at it. For here, the only thing between them was skin and cloth.
She led him past a vine and a tree and a bush and a branch and then and there was her secret.
It was hardly something that could easily be kept hidden for very long.
Seymour had never seen a Ronso before. The villagers, none of who reached close to his height scared him. This was bigger and heavier than he was and came armed with teeth and claws, not to mention a spear.
"This is Kimahri. I found him, and gave him my lunch" Yuna said proudly and patted his knee, "He’s lost, just like you."
Seymour bowed slightly, giving Kimahri the gesture of Yevon.
"Seymour lost?" Kimahri spoke.
"Abandoned," Seymour answered.
"Not lost now."
Seymour gave them both one of his tiny, rare smiles.