Final Fantasy X: The Varying Degrees of Metallics
He stood with his face pressed against the warm metal of the airship wall in a quiet room. Just five minutes, Tidus thought. Just five minutes to adjust, to accept—his fist met metal, over and over, hard and angry and useless. Tears burned his eyes and Jecht's voice burned his mind. Crybaby, Jecht whispered. Crybaby.
"No," Tidus said, squeezing his eyes shut. "Not Yuna."
He heard the movement behind him. It was too careful for Rikku but not quiet enough for Auron. The rustle of fabric over the molded metallic floor made him say, "Not now, Lulu." Eyes closed, breathing in the smell of the ship, in and out. "Please."
"I'm sorry."
Tidus jerked around to find Isaaru watching him. His face was a mask, the real weapon of summoners, Tidus thought. The ability to hide the truth and their feelings. "I thought you were sleeping?" Tidus said, aware his cheeks were streaked with tears. Crybaby. He held his head up.
Isaaru approached carefully. "You want Yuna to live," he said. Tidus felt Isaaru's hand touch his shoulder and flinched.
"Yes," said Tidus. "I want Yuna to live."
"If one summoner can't walk the path, another summoner will replace them." Isaaru's words were an echo of earlier. He shifted closer. "Do you think you can replace our summoners?"
It was hard to swallow. "I don't know," Tidus said, eyes hot. "I don't know." He froze when Isaaru leaned forward, his breath only warm against already flushed skin.
"She has her father in her," Isaaru said. "Can you find a way?"
Tidus stared over Isaaru's shoulder, palms slipping against the metal at his back. "I—what do you mean?"
He thought he felt the ghost of lips as Isaaru moved away. "Your dream," Isaaru said, eyes sad. "I fear it may come to pass."
Tidus floundered, reached out, pulled back with empty air grasped in his hands. "My dream?"
"Good luck," Isaaru said. "I hope you find your way to save Yuna's dream and yours."
He swept away, leaving Tidus with the smell of dust and burning.