Disclaimer: I don't own FFX

Authoress Note: So some of the scenes are from the spheres you find throughout the game, so it might seem like the scene is really familiar, but I add in a lot of my own scenes too because the spheres don't show their whole journey.

The Path I've Chosen

By: Animeroxsmyworld

Chapter 1

Jecht didn't know how it happened, not really. He had been drinking at the time, but then again when wasn't he nowadays. He had very fuzzy bits and pieces of what happened, but it didn't make any sense. Even adding together what he could try and understand, it didn't make any sense.

Like if 2 + 2 = 9.

The last thing Jecht did remember was drinking on the ship with his blitzball team, the ever famous Zanarkand Abes, while they headed to the tournament that was supposed to be held overseas. Luca was it? He didn't care. The water had turned rough with the declining health of the weather, but when did water scare a blitzball player? They stayed on the deck drinking and gambling the time away as they let the crew try and steer the ship on the right path. As weather started to take a bigger turn for the worse, the crew started yelling, the wind howling like a wounded animal and the water began sloshing up onto the deck of the boat as it lunged from side to side.

It was then Jecht started to suspect something was wrong.

Then things turn hazy.

The next thing he can remember is practically drowning in the water as the ship tears itself in two, a mammoth of a monster, the biggest thing Jecht had ever seen, destroying everything around it as its armor like body sifts through the water with deadly grace. Its multiple eyes look at him as he flounders in the water to avoid the debris of the ship and the tumbling bodies that are crashing into the sea bed around him.

And then…

It's black.

Braska stared up at the statue before him, his body bent in prayer as he studied the face chiseled into the stone. A face full of determination, bravery, and hope…all the makings of a great high summoner. "You are much braver than I." He muttered as he bowed his head once more, eyes closing in reverence. He had fallen away from his pilgrimage, a fallen summoner as some would say.

A coward.

No that wasn't true. He had married and fathered a child.

And yet…

"You are Braska?"

Braska straightened at the slightly wheezy voice, eyes taking in the bent old man at his side, robed in the garment's of the priesthood. Obviously the head priest of the temple here in Bevelle.

Braska gave a short nod. "Yes. Thank you for seeing me Father Maghee."

The old man's eyes ran over him with a calculating look, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as his lips puckered. "You're a summoner, here for the fayth?" He jerked his head towards the door just a few feet behind him that would lead to the cloister of trials, and thus, to the fayth.

Braska paused for a brief second at the bald man's tone before nodding none the less. Ever since leaving his pilgrimage, the aeons left him and he would now have to restart his journey, praying to each fayth at each temple once more.

He prayed that they would find him worthy once again.

"I've never seen a summoner without any guardians before." Father Maghee speculated. Braska's face broke out into an innocent smile.

"I'm sure I'll be able to find some once I set out onto my journey." He reassured. He had a friend among the warrior monks in the temple that he was hoping he might be able to talk into coming along with him if he was successful with the aeon once again.

That is, if his friend was up for the risk his pilgrimage posed.

Father Maghee looked suspicious for two more seconds before his face broke into a smile, laugh lines crinkling his face in various areas. "Well then, let me show you to the trials."

Braska followed after the stooped man, his hearing pricking up as they passed two whispering acolytes lighting the candles near the many high summoner statues, apparently oblivious to how close by Braska was to them.

"Did you hear?"

"No. Hear what?"

The older acolyte leant her head close to the younger girl's ear, her voice more hushed though Braska still caught her words. "A man claiming to be from Zanarkand was arrested last night!"

When Braska came looking for Auron, a close childhood acquaintance of his from long ago, he looked severely distracted though he still managed to get his message across. He was in search of a guardian now that he was to go back on the path of the pilgrimage. He knew of Auron's skill with the blade and he had hoped the warrior would join him.

Though he would understand completely if he declined.

Auron had hesitated for a few minutes, others in the room watching him with baited breath, before agreeing to the great task offered before him. Braska had smiled though something in his eyes told the monk that the summoner had other things on his mind, and Braska left with the parting words that they would leave in three days.

With meeting for departure in just an hour, Auron felt his nerves begin to stir inside of him, his palms beginning to sweat as he met with his friend Kinoc, once his equal among the warriors.

"You'll do fine, just relax." Kinoc advised as he watched the younger male pace in front of him, fingers twitching with nervous energy. Yet Auron only seemed to be stirring himself into a bigger mess of nerves and Kinoc sighed, reaching into a small pouch and pulling out a canteen. "Drink this. Just relax."

Auron looked at him dubiously for a moment before hesitantly taking the offered drinking and sipping its contents. He pulled a face at the bitter alcohol that slid down his throat, but said nothing before taking another swig.

Silence reigned over them for several moments before Auron spoke, his words quite but firm.

"Thanks for everything Kinoc."

Kinoc just snorted, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I know I don't need to tell you this, but guard Lord Braska well." The older man advised, also an old acquaintance of the summoner. Auron's eyes rose to his, a hard look there.

"That I will." Auron agreed with a firm nod. "And you'll be busy too. I heard they made you second in command."

At that the older man sighed, shoulders drooping. "You know that that promotion was meant for you." He confessed, leaning back against the wall behind him. "You were always the better one, even until the end."

At this, Auron's lip twitched. "You make it sound as if I'm going off to die or something. I will see you again."

"Yes." Kinoc agreed. There was silence once more before Auron straightened and handed Kinoc's canteen back.

"Well then…"

Kinoc pushed away from the wall, straightening as well. "Going already?" Auron nodded. "You will tell me about Zanarkand when you return won't you?" It was always such an intriguing place and no one ever really knew much about it. Those who came back from its confines seemed to stay quiet about the place, as if its memory was a horrible scar that ought not be remembered.

Auron just nodded as he took the older man's hand in a rough, parting shake. "Farewell."

Jecht cracked open an eye at the approaching footsteps, the rather soft footfalls instead of the loud clunky ones he had grown accustomed to already told him it was a stranger. A man draped head to toe in a purple and red robe filled his rather bleary vision, dark eyes staring at him in interest. At least that's what it appeared to be, Jecht wasn't ever that good with reading people.

Just behind him stood a slightly shorter male clad in red, wearing armor chest plating with dark hair scraped back in a low ponytail. Jecht just barely glanced at the disapproving look the man bore on his face before his full attention swung back to the robed man.

Together they made an odd, rather clashing pair.

"Who are you?" Jecht snapped out gruffly, his brow furrowing as he tried to focus. Since becoming imprisoned in this strange place, he no longer had any booze so Jecht was for once in a very long time, that he could remember, completely sober.

It was a very odd experience.

And he did not like it.

The robed man bent his head ever so slightly to the side, as if considering the shirtless blitzball star lying on the stone floor before him, looking both at ease and completely uncomfortable at the same time. "You are the one they call Jecht, the man from Zanarkand, are you not?" He asked, sounding almost careful about his words.

Jecht's eyes narrowed as he sat himself upright, propping himself on his elbows. "What of it?" He bit out harshly. Over the past few days he had heard a lot of people snide or laugh, even threaten him whenever he said he came from Zanarkand. He could almost imagine the kind of things this guy was saying in his head, judging by what Jecht had heard over the past few days.

"Watch your tongue knave!" Ponytail boy snapped back quickly, stepping forward and eyes flashing. Jecht's muscles tensed instinctively as he readied himself to propel upright to his feet, seeming to forget that there was a wall of iron bars separating the two from each other.

However the robed man placed a hand lightly on ponytail boy's shoulder and stepped in front of him slightly before any kind of fight could break out, if there was a chance of that even happening with one man behind bars and all. "I apologize." He interjected calmly. "I am Braska, a summoner. I've come to take you from this place."

That made Jecht pause as he openly stared at the two. Freedom? They were going to free him? He spoke after several seconds.

"Sounds sweet…what's the catch?" He asked skeptically as he got to his feet, leaning himself against the bars of the cell to try and get a better look at these two, apparently good doing people, now that he was now fully awake. From what he had heard, one of the priests of Yevon thought he should be put to death for saying he was from Zanarkand. Why were these people wanting to release him? Shouldn't they be wanting to try and put him to death too?

Braska laughed good naturedly, his cheeks dimpling. "Hahaha that easy to see was it?" He asked, brown eyes twinkling. "I soon leave on a pilgrimage…" Braska paused. "To Zanarkand."

"Seriosuly?"

He nodded. "I would like you to join us. It will be a dangerous trip. Yet if we do reach Zanarkand…my prayers will be answered and you will be able to go home… we think. What say you?" He questioned, a brow rising in wait. Behind him Jecht watched as the ponytail boy made a look of disgruntlement, but said nothing.

So if he went, not only would he have a chance to go home, but he would be annoying the ponytail bastard?

Jecht smirked before stretching out his arms. "Great! Let's go!"

Braska blinked in surprise. "So quick?" He hadn't expected a response so quickly.

"Anything to get outta here!" Jecht exclaimed as he wrapped his hands around the iron bars and shook, to emphasis his imprisonment. Surely no prisoner was stupid enough to give up the opportunity for freedom, even if it was slightly dampened with the chance of danger.

And so what? Danger might just be the thrill that Jecht needed.

Braska smiled, his hands disappearing into the sleeves of his robe. "Then it's settled."

"But I must protest!" Ponytail protested quickly, no longer being able to hold in his displeasure that had been so clear on his face for Jecht to see. "This drunkard, a guardian?"

"Hey!" Jecht snapped. "You want to step in here and say that?" He hadn't appreciated the drunkard comment and he was in excellent form from blitzball. He didn't doubt that he could handle himself in a fight if things were ever to go that way. Hell he had broken plenty of noses and arms during some of his more vicious games.

Oh he wanted that bastard to try and make his way in here so that Jecht could lay one on him. Maybe in the face, yeah, that'd be good. Maybe break his nose!

Ponytail only glared at him while Braska decided to intervene.

"What does it matter? No one truly believes that I, a fallen summoner wed to an Al Bhed could possibly defeat Sin. This is what they say. No one expects us to succeed."

"Braska, sir…"

"Let's show them they're wrong. A fallen summoner, a man from Zanarkand…and a warrior monk doomed to obscurity for refusing the hand of the priest's daughter. What delightful irony it would be if we defeated Sin!" Braska confessed, a light glinting his eyes and an excited, yet determined tone filling his voice.

"Stop gabbin' and get me outta here!" Jecht interrupted as he gave his confines a rough shake. He would admit that yes, whatever Braska was talking about did intrigue him, but he didn't understand a word he was saying and at the moment, the most pressing thing on his mind was getting out of this damn cell.

He needed to make them good on their promise before they decided to change their mind and leave him in here. And if ponytail boy had his way, that was probably what they would do.

But thankfully it seemed Braska called the shots.

"My apologies. Auron, get the guard to let our companion out." Braska instructed, finally identifying the warrior monk for Jecht as ponytail frowned before nodding and strutting back towards the armor clad guard standing a couple feet away, at the entrance of the cells. The guard cast a look at Jecht before looking back at Auron, the monk whispering something to him before the guard began to walk over, unintelligible words being muttered under his breath.

Jecht drew himself to his full height and stared the man down as he undid the cell door and let Jecht walk out, grabbing his hands a little more roughly then intended, and undoing the binds that were there.

"Ahh! Free at last!" Jecht exclaimed as the guard stepped away, the blitzball player rubbing his wrists in relief.

"Now Jecht…I'm in your hands until we reach Zanarkand." Braska reminded as he strolled up alongside the unruly looking man. Jecht just waved his hand in the air at the summoner's comment.

"Right right." Jecht scoffed before he frowned, turning to face the two men he would soon be travelling with. "So what's a summer-ner anyways?"

Braska blinked while Auron looked at him with surprise before his brow furrowed. He turned to Braska quickly, muscles tense. "See what kind of idiot you have entrusted yourself with?" He snapped harshly.

"Hey!"

"Auron…" Braska sighed, the beginnings of a warning.

"He doesn't even know what a summoner is! I bet he doesn't even know about Sin! Or aeons!" The ex-monk continued, Braska's words not quite reaching his ears.

Jecht was already storming over, eyes bright with anger. "I know enough to kick your ass." He hissed. Auron rose to meet his gaze, jaw squaring when a staff suddenly set itself between the two, making them jump. Braska's face was set in a scowl, his grip on the staff firm and he looked ready to intervene the moment the two made any sign of movement.

"That is enough." He ordered. "From here on out you two are my guardians. This is going to be a long trip and you two will have to get along." He continued, his voice surprising Jecht with how deep it had become. He could've easily commanded a platoon of soldiers with that tone.

The look of anger slowly bled out of Auron's face before he turned to look at the robed summoner. "I apologize for my behavior."

Jecht snorted as he took a step back. "Whatever, sorry."

Braska's staff stayed in the air for a second before it lowered, the stern look on the man's face disappearing. "I'm glad that is dealt with. Let us go."

Jecht had never been so relieved to smell fresh air before. The moment he stepped outside he stopped, closed his eyes, and inhaled, his lungs filling with the clean oxygen flowing all throughout Bevelle. It made him ache to play a game of blitzball. He wondered how far away Bevelle was from Luca.

His musings were shattered when Auron called back to him, barely veiled annoyance in his voice. "Keep up knave!"

His eyes opened with a glare already shooting towards Auron's back. Braska shot them both a disapproving looks as he paused and waited for Jecht to catch up. One day, when Braska wasn't around, Jecht was going to really let Auron have it. He strolled forward, Braska waiting ever patiently before he continued talking.

"As I was saying," Braska started as they began walking once again. "An aeon is located in each temple at every village. Summoners must set out to each temple and pray to the fayth who reside there, and if the summoner is worthy enough, the fayth will bestow the aeon upon them."

"And these aeons will help you defeat this Sin thing?" Jecht asked as he tried to piece together all of what Braska had explained to him about the monster Sin and the destruction and death that it brought.

"No. Sin can only be defeated with the final aeon, the final summoning." Braska clarified as he shook his head. "To achieve the final aeon, one must head to Zanarkand."

Jecht's eyebrows rose as he remembered Zanarkand, the bustling city where he grew up. He didn't believe that there had ever been a temple there. At least to his knowledge. Then again, he had spent most of his life being totally enraptured by the blitzball stadium that he wouldn't be surprised if there was one squished in between two skyscrapers somewhere.

As the trio continued walking down the long, rather linear roads that spread out from the main streets of Bevelle, a man stepped out towards them, an overly large backpack strapped to his back and a small cap on his head. The pack looked like it would throw him off balance at any moment.

He smiled knowingly at them. "Ah I'd recognize travelers anywhere. You three are heading out aren't you?" He asked as he stepped towards them. He apparently didn't require an answer as he continued talking reminding Jecht of the pushy salespeople who used to crowd the main shopping sector of Zanarkand. "My names O'Aka. I have everything you could possibly need for long trips." He said as he began pulling things out his pockets, unzipping his bag and laying his merchandise at their feet.

"I believe we'll be alright." Auron said as he waved the man off, a hint of finality in his voice. O'Aka wilted slightly before he turned chipper once more and turned his gaze to the other two, ever hopeful.

Jecht had never felt so confused. He didn't know what half of O'Aka's things even were, his face turning into one of complete disinterest to hide the itch he had to stare openly at each thing laid out before him. The only things that were familiar to him were the weapons and…

"Is this a recording sphere?" Jecht asked as he picked up the small blue sphere from the ground, the object as light as a ping pong ball in his hands.

O'Aka beamed. "Good pick there. Not even used I reckon. Got myself a fistful of 'em when I was passing through Macalania."

As Braska gained O'Aka's attention Jecht swiftly slid the sphere into his pocket. He had no money to pay for the thing and he was going to be damned if he would let any of these two pay for him. Well Braska more than Auron, Auron would probably kill himself before buy anything for him.

"I'll take this sword over here." Braska said as he picked up a red and grey blade, the summoner swinging it once in his hand.

"Excellent choice! Excellent indeed!" O'Aka grinned as he handed the sword over to the summoner in exchange for the small bagful of gil Braska passed him. The exchange done the merchant began packing up with incredible speed.

"My lord, what're you—" Auron started in confusion but Braska merely turned and offered the sword to Jecht. Jecht shared Auron's look of confusion as he stared at Braska's hand, the handle of the weapon gleaming invitingly at him.

Silence fell over them before Jecht seemed to realize what had happened and he snorted, walking hurriedly past the robed man.

"Keep your money. I don't need it."

"I'm afraid you do." Braska started, continuing before Jecht could open his mouth. "You see this pilgrimage is going to be quite dangerous and if I'm going to trust you to protect me I'm going to need you to be able to protect yourself. Your fists aren't going to be as strong as a weapon as you think."

Jecht looked skeptical for a second but Braska looked unmoving in his resolve so Jecht crumbled just a little. "Feh, whatever." He decided as he reached out and plucked the sword from Braska's grasp, the metal cool against his skin.

As they continued down the road Jecht waited several minutes before they were a safe distance, before he pulled the sphere from his pocket. Like a child with a new toy, he played with it, recording useless things that happened to catch his interest. Braska watched with mild amusement.

Auron watched with pure annoyance.

Auron glared at Jecht as he turned and strolled along backwards, sphere held in his hand towards Braska and the once warrior monk, effectively recording them for a later time. Jecht smirked as the glare he was receiving was reflected back in the sphere.

"What are you taking?" Auron bit out.

"Well you said it was gonna be a long trip." Jecht explained with a simple shrug, though his smirk was still in place on his lips. He really got under this Auron guy's skin didn't he? "We'll be seeing a lot of neat things right? So I figured I'd record it all in this. To show my wife and kid."

Auron stopped and a muscle in his jaw twitched out of anger. "This is no pleasure cruise!" He snapped, arm swinging in emphasis of his anger.

Jecht only snorted in amusement at the warrior's displeasure. He wondered who cared more about this pilgrimage thing. Braska or Auron? Auron definitely let it affect him more.

He pointedly ignored Auron which caused the ponytail warrior's face to flush in anger, his nostril's flaring as the sphere turned solely on Braska, the summoner a calm beacon among the two as he walked peacefully. "Hey Braska, ain't this supposed to be a grand occasion?" Jecht asked, Braska glancing at him as he continued walking.

The summoner gave a small nod though said nothing.

"Where're the cheering fans? The crying women?" Jecht cried out, jerking his head at the long road they walked that was completely devoid of any other kind of life. If this was how Bevelle celebrated their grand occasions it was no wonder the blitzball stadium was in Luca. Luca probably gave their people a proper celebration.

Now if this was Zanarkand, well then, there would be a sight! There would be a proper celebration!

Braska only shook his head a small smile on his lips.

"This is it. Too many goodbyes-people think twice about leaving." He confessed, his words quiet. An image of Tidus and his wife flashed to the front of his mind, unbidden, and Jecht frowned as it disappeared a second later, just long enough for his heart to sympathize…for a second.

Then he scoffed.

"Hmm if you say so. Well it better be a lot more colorful when we come back." He demanded ignoring the quick look the two shared. "A parade for Braska, vanquisher of Sin!" He cried fake excitement as he pretended to throw his free hand into the air.

Auron glared with such intensity Jecht could almost feel it burning into his flesh.

Braska let out a laugh but it sounded hallow, his smile looking just a little forced. "Hahaha we should go. Day will break soon."