Chapter 1 - Ch, 1

June 5th



My dear son, I give you this book on your thirteenth birthday to celebrate you becoming a man. I pray to Yevon that your wishes be heard when you place them in this book, no matter how impossible it may seem for their achievement.



All my love,

Your Mother







Yep. That's what the inscription on the front of this journal says. Mom wants me to keep a daily journal of what she thinks are my “prayers and wishes?” I have no prayers, no wishes either. I refuse to let even the great Yevon hear what I want. From what I gather in this world and from what my parents have told me of their youth, if you want something, you have to go and get it your damn self. No one else will if you don't. So in short, if I want to bring death and destruction to the ones that just piss me off, I'll do it with my own hands.



Of course, I'd never tell Mom this. She's much too nice and gentle for me to just outright hurt her feelings. Not to mention the fact that Dad would wear me clean out if he knew I did something to upset her.



Oh, and since this is now my “Accursed Book of Thoughts And Ramblings,” my name is Braskus. Don't ask for a last name because I don't even know if I have one. Really, if I have a last name, my parents have made it a point not to mention it. Not that I care. Everyone on Besaid Island refers to each other by their first name anyway, so a surname is somewhat unnecessary.



Wait, I'm wasting paper again. This is supposed to be about my thoughts and feelings about the world around me right? Ok then, I think everything about my home is boring with a capital B. It's always too quiet. Except for when the occasional visitor comes around and the fabrics that make the island famous are bought by the gazillions. The other two exceptions are when Dad, Wakka, and myself go to Luca to see a blitzball tournament, and when people come to see Mom, “The Great Summoner Who Defeated Sin.” Save for those times, B-O-R-I-N-G is how Besaid is spelled.



Wow, would you look at that. I've written about two pages of my thoughts. Looks like what Mom hoped for is happening. She should be so glad to know this, and I told her so. She merely said “I'm just glad you're using it Brasky,” and went on doing what all heroes do after they've saved the world: take care of their house chores. Yes, my mom calls me “Brasky.” What of it? Mind the fact that she's the only one who can call me that. It's a Mom thing, so it's somewhat expected. Mothers are always nicknaming their children with embarrassing names right? So it's not a big deal. Just ask anyone who's teased me about it. Their mocking usually ends after my fist plants itself in their face for about the seventeenth or eighteenth time.



Surprised about the chore thing? Don't be. That's all there is to do on Besaid most days: pray, do chores, eat, bathe, and sleep. I'm supposed to do all of the above (the first most of all), but most of my time is spent either eating (my metabolism has soared to an all time high since I hit thirteen) or wandering about the island for hours on end. Exciting? Better than most things. Except blitzball. When Dad and Uncle Wakka invite me to a match of blitz against them, it's hard to resist. I've played the game since I was…let's see, I can first remember playing it when I was around five or six, so that's about seven years and the game still holds me in thrall. As Mom would say “Boys and their games.” She couldn't be any more right.

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