( He's here--But--Dammit, dad-- )
He ended up on the wrong side. Though it wasn't very much like they had a choice, now did they? Thrust into a war without warning and the only way out is to win.
But what if the stakes are taking down your own father?
Sure--he 'hated' him. He hated him for saying he was weak. He hated him because his mother had died waiting for him to return to her.
He hated him because she paid more attention to the celebrity than she did to her child.
But he was still his father. He was still flesh and blood. He was still the person who's shadow he stood in but tried everything to surpass so he could impress him. Making him proud.
But now they stood face to face. It was coming down to this--Tidus knew now that if he didn't defeat his father that he'd gain nothing form this. He wouldn't obtain his crystal. He'd never go home. Jecht was rough and mean and not one to really express how he felt, but the teen could tell there was a slight waiver in his voice as if he was feeling apprehensive about fighting his own son.
He understood. They were the same.
They began their clash and the blows were hard--bone breaking to any normal person but years of blitz training on both ends left them strong and hardened against such collisions. Though the elder had the boy down and he was ready to walk away--unable to finish the deed because, after all, it was his kid.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Don't you get it? There's no tomorrow for me, unless I beat you today!"
The elder man turned around, shocked at how the boy rose to his feet, shaking off that knock down as if it had been nothing--maybe, just maybe his boy had grown strong.
"Feh. Pesky little runt--Who do you take after?" A broad smirk was spread on his features, a fire now ignited in his bones because that never-give-up attitude was so reminiscent of someone he knew. Himself.
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