Revision as of 14:27, 17 December 2012

Jecht
The Blitzball King
Age	Late Twenties, Early Thirties
Species	Unsent
Sex	Male
Height	Tall
Weight	Great
Background
Series	Final Fantasy 9
Combat Styles	Blitzball Hero
Hometown	Zanarkand
Group	Unaffiliated
Occupation/Job	Sublime Magnificence
Force:	Forces of Restoration
Theme Song	U Can't Touch This - MC Hammer
Quote
"I ain't gettin' any younger, so I might as well make myself useful."

The Cover Blurb

Jecht is a rare individual - a man with an ego the size of the planet, and the skill to back it up. Formerly the greatest player of the city of Zanarkand, Jecht's life changed one day when a chance encounter with the terrifying engine of destruction known as Sin sent him hurtling a thousand years into the future. Finding himself homeless, jobless, drunk, and arrested, Jecht quickly decided life in Spira didn't suit him. However, the summoner Braska disagreed, seeing within Jecht a good heart and tremendous skill. Jecht found himself on a journey through Spira, discovering a whole new world as he became fast friends with Auron and Braska; eventually, he gave his own life, and disappeared with Braska, becoming a legendary Guardian whose name is known all across the land of Spira. Now, he has returned, though no one knows exactly how - least of all Jecht himself.

Reviewer Quotes

THE. BEST. DAD. EVER.

Jecht's Authorized Biography

Jecht is a deceptively complicated man. He's a success story, one you've heard many times before; the kid from the street, down on his luck, with an abusive deadbeat dad and an inebriated mother, with tremendous potential and talent for a game nobody will give him a chance to play. That's Jecht; his early life was one long series of his old man telling him he'd never become anything, never grow up into anything, never amount to anything - that he'd always be just like his old man. It was a long series of scuffles and scrapes, of beating up other kids who picked on the weak and defenseless, of telling adults exactly what he thought of their stupid faces and their stupid plans. It was a series of coming home after a hard day of practice (school? Jecht dropped out. He didn't have a future in school; he bet it all on his one and only talent) to find his mother slumped over the table, drowning her sorrows, and his father screaming obscenities at her and throwing a bottle at him.

Needless to say, Jecht spent a lot of nights over with friends.

Or on the street, if none of his friends were available. Sometimes, he'd just go out back to the alleyway, and he'd dream. Jecht was a dreamer; he dreamed big, he dreamed hard, he dreamed of having the world in his palm. And by God, he was willing to work for it, push his fingers to the bone, blitz till it hurt. That's the kind of kid Jecht had to be, in the slums of Zanarkand, while the lights twinkled above and blotted out the stars with their glory. Zanarkand only responded to big dreams and big dreamers, and Jecht was the biggest dreamer of them all. When he laid down out there in the alleyway, under the cardboard boxes, all the lights in the sky were his and his alone, and he wished on each and every one of them that his hard work would pay off one day.

And pay off it did. He got a lucky break, signing up as the towel boy for the Zanarkand Abes. When one of the star players broke his leg in an accident, Jecht ran out into the field to take his place; the manager was just about ready to kill him until he pulled off one of the most spectacular wins in the history of Blitzball, a legendary goal from literally the other side of the field. The crowd roaring his name in his ears, Jecht got his first taste of fame that day - and it was every bit as sweet as he thought it would be. Fame was a glorious, glorious nectar for the poor kid from the street; it swelled his head, and deservedly so, because he was unequivocably the best player on the Abes. Drunk on victory, he went out that night on the town, making time with groupies and the players of the Abes alike. Drunk on slightly more conventional liquor, he got a tattoo of the Abes' team logo on his chest; he wears it proudly to this day, considering it a mark of friendship and victory that gives him good luck in everything he's ever done since.

When Jecht returned home that night, his father changed his tune immediately, and it made Jecht furious. The man who had berated him and hated him all that time, who had spent most of his time drinking and cursing out his son, had become a suck-up, telling Jecht how he'd always believed in him and if he'd just spare some money for his old man it'd be repaid shortly, and all sorts of other lies. Jecht left his home, resolving never to become a man like his father; he would unswervingly follow through with his own beliefs and walk down the path he chose, no matter how hard times got. Jecht never spoke to his parents after that; his mother died of liver failure, and his father was crippled in a car accident. Jecht didn't even go to the funeral. To him, they'd already been dead.

Instead, Jecht did exactly what he vowed - marching down the path he had chosen. His skill swiftly found him becoming the greatest Blitzball player in Zanarkand, achieving a truly phenomenal state of success; making the hall of fame for an unprecedented five categories, and generally outpacing pretty much everyone else in his world of pro sports. He lived the life of an outstandingly successful sports hero; he was a role model, a star, an athlete, his face plastered across ever billboard and every screen. He had commercials, he had toys, he had the life, and he loved it. He began showing off more and more during his matches, inventing wildly popular trick shots to wow the crowds and give them tons and tons of picture opportunities. With every victory, he got more popular; soon, he was a household name.

But life was still empty for him. It was at this time that Adelaide came onto the stage. A cheerleader for the Zanarkand Abes, Adelaide had been watching Jecht since his first game; they had practically grown up together, though she'd been under Jecht's notice the whole time, so concerned was he with winning and showing off. Lily finally gathered up the courage to ask him out one day after a particularly successful game, before the screaming groupies could get to him; surprisingly, Jecht agreed, and the two of them hit it off splendidly. Jecht quickly found himself attached to Adelaide more than just physically; he fell in love with her very hard, and one day, literally in the middle of a game, Jecht proposed to her on the big screen with a giant winning goal.

One wedding night later, and Adelaide got very, very pregnant. And Jecht was suddenly confronted with an entirely new spectrum of problems - he was going to be a father. What sort of image was he putting off to his son? What sort of person was his son going to become? More importantly, what sort of person was Jecht? What was important to him, what was his life like? Was he really the hero he thought of himself as, or was he a show-off putting on the ego to give people somebody to cheer for?

Then, nine months later, Tidus was born, Jecht discovered exactly what he had feared all along - he was not at all ready to be a father. As he held and named his infant son with Adelaide, as he looked down at his delicate boy, he realized that, no, he wasn't prepared for this. His old man had never shown him any sort of affection; he knew how to show ladies affection, but this was a whole different blitzball game, and one he didn't have a coach for, practice for, or any sort of warm-up before. His son was real, living, breathing, and Jecht loved him - he loved him powerfully, he knew he loved his boy from the moment he laid eyes on him and said his name out loud, loved him as much as he loved Adelaide; but showing it?

Jecht would never really be capable of showing it. The closest Jecht could do - the best he could do, in fact - was display to his son the same sort of motivation his father had given him. He wanted his son to succeed; the only way he truly knew how to inspire him was the same way his old man had. Jecht struggled with that dilemma quite heavily; to bully his own son was horribly cruel, but maybe, maybe, his son would recognize him for what it was, and he could train his son when his son became as skilled as he dreamed. Maybe Tidus would forgive him, and understand that it was for the best, especially if he encouraged his wife to spend lots of time with him the way his mother hadn't. He loved his son from the bottom of his heart, after all; he wanted him to succeed as big as he had, or bigger. He wanted to not just be the best Blitzballer, but be the father of the kid who surpassed him. The Jecht Dynasty of Blitzballers rang in his ears, and so he berated his son, kicked him down, talked himself up...made himself the biggest target in the world so that Tidus would go after him as hard as he could.

But Tidus never really did. Adelaide spent all her time with Jecht, and very little with their son. Jecht took to drinking to dull the guilt. People began worrying about his career; was "the Great Jecht" (a fan-nickname he had picked up and taken a liking to) about to fall? He missed a few games, had some less-than-acceptable conduct...but he could quit any time he wanted. He was in control of his drinking, despite drinking quite heavily, and it never interfered with his dreams or his drive - just his sense of when he needed to be in places. Ironically, his coordination never wavered; Jecht once boasted that he could perform the Sublimely Magnificent Jecht Shot Mark III even fall-down drunk, and that was, in fact, true; he was just that damn good at it. Whether he was that damn good at the shot from practicing it so often, or that damned good at showing off that he could do it just by reflex, is impossible to say. Nonetheless, his career took a turn for the worse; he began training twice as hard, spending more and more time away from home. As a result, Tidus began to believe his father was nothing but an arrogant prick who hated him; Adelaide spent what time she could with Tidus, but whenever Jecht was home, it was twice as bad.

Then, one day, everything changed. Jecht was out practicing in the water, some routine training just off the coast; he was a little drunk at the time (okay, he was a lot drunk at the time, but that didn't interfere with Jecht's ability to kick things at all), but he could've sworn he saw a giant shape under the water. And, indeed, when he swam closer to investigate, he discovered that he was not in fact THAT drunk; the giant creature known as Sin was indeed floating just inside Dream Zanarkand. He was sucked into the giant shape in an instant, and feared that his life was about to end.

It did not.

Jecht was spat out of Sin somewhere near Bevelle, a thousand years after Zanarkand's death. He washed up on shore, where he was found and brought to Bevelle for healing by a few novice clerics; however, when he recovered, he immediately began screaming about Zanarkand. Given that he smelled heavily of alcohol and was rambling about a city that hadn't existed for a thousand years, Jecht was immediately arrested and thrown in the dungeons. He continued shouting about being a star player from Zanarkand the whole time, ranting and raving through his alcohol-fueled rambling. A few of the guards heard the story, and, thinking it funny, began passing it around as a joke; the crazy drunken lout who thought he played for the Zanarkand Abes, a team no one had ever heard of from a city that had died a long time ago.

One man didn't think it was crazy. That man was Braska; a summoner with a "heathen" wife and "half-breed" daughter, Braska found Jecht's story fascinating, and visited him shortly after hearing it. He made Jecht an incredible offer - his freedom, in exchange for guarding Braska along his journey as a summoner. Braska thought it was perfect - the summoner with the heathen family, the drunken blitzballer from a dead land, and Auron, the disgraced warrior. Though Auron distrusted Jecht, Jecht agreed - it was better than sitting in prison - and joined the team. Jecht was introduced to Braska's family as they prepared to depart, while Braska acquired his first Aeon; Jecht formed a bond with young Yuna, and told her stories of Zanarkand frequently. Yuna's wide-eyed gaze reminded him of his own child; though he was unable to truly show Yuna affection (as she wasn't his child, and he had trouble with that regardless), he came to think of Yuna as the niece he never had. His stories brought wonder to her; in turn, she made him feel a little better, and he was able to relive the majesty of Zanarkand through the tales he weaved.

They departed on their journey, and it became quite clear quite quickly that Jecht was not *completely* in control of his drinking problem. It caused several minor incidents in various shops across the land; the most important of which being a Shoopuf that Jecht took exception to, believing it to be a fiend. He struck it quite fiercely with his sword, leaving a deep scar; Braska, embarassed, paid for the creature out of his own pocket. It was at that moment that Jecht sobered up immensely; ashamed of his behavior and the way he was presenting himself to Spira, not to mention Braska, Jecht proved that he truly could stop drinking whenever he wanted - then and there, he stopped drinking anything but Shoopuf milk as penance.

Braska's journey opened Jecht's eyes to the wonders of Spira. He became very aware of his own self-centered nature; he changed drastically, realizing that people needed help all across the land, and often encouraging the team to go help, despite personal trouble. Braska, Auron, and Jecht grew incredibly close, practically brothers by the end of it all; it made the decision that much harder when the time came at Zanarkand. But Jecht couldn't look back; he knew that this was why he was here. He tasked Auron with looking after Tidus, and bid them a fond farewell, promising that he'd think of some way to stop Sin as he melded into the Final Aeon. Then, he was cast; with a mighty blow, he brought Sin down.

Temporarily.

For ten years, the Final Aeon that was Jecht sat inside Yu Yevon's grasp. The summoner from Zanarkand worked its magic, transforming the Final Aeon Jecht into the core of the new Sin and rebuilding the great monster of myth around Jecht. Unable to fight back, Jecht became locked in the nightmare, only able to find peace within the Hymn of the Fayth that he loved so much. Eventually, Jecht's sheer, overwhelming willpower broke the conditioning for a brief moment; he managed to return to his homeland, though not in the way he intended, bringing with him ruin and disaster - but also hope. He called out to Auron with the power of his mind, as he felt it slipping away, and drew his unsent friend and son into Spira. And then...he returned to being the mindless beast, rampaging through the land.

And then the worlds broke. Everything changed. Sin was cast out of Spira; it floated through the Space Between The Worlds, and for the first time, Jecht knew some peace from his eternal, endless, self-chosen torment. Here, he could rest, unworried about anyone else; here, he could be free, and perhaps find some reprieve, and think of a way to stop Sin's eternal, endless reincarnation. But his reprieve would not last; Jecht found his heart tugged, pulled towards the new world by something he did not understand. As the Hymn of the Fayth filled his ears, he found his eyes - not the eyes of Braska's Final Aeon, but Jecht's eyes - opening in the new world. He found himself floating, as though he were in a dream...and for him, it was. Though he does not know by what power he has been freed, Jecht intends fully to use every minute of this time the way he pleases. He's going to explore this new world, hunt down his son, and maybe slap some shape into that crybaby.

Okay, so he hasn't changed that much.

The Real Jecht

It cannot be overstated that, at heart, Jecht is a very, very good man. He does not fight for himself; he fights to protect the dreams of everyone, to inspire and impress those who are down-trodden and weak like he once was, to show the world(s) that there are better ways. Jecht fights to help people, to protect them; he selflessly throws himself into danger's path because he knows what it is to be downtrodden, to be hurt, to feel like you've got nothing but your dream. He's a very, very good man.

He just...has a very great deal of trouble showing emotions. Jecht is, in many ways, the archetype of every macho macho man in the world; testosterone-laden, full of self-confidence to the point of swagger and arrogance, and completely incapable of expressing the finer emotions. It comes from his father; he received little love or encouragement as a child, and as a result, has no real guide for how to show those things to others. Even his wife received only the affection he understood how to give to a woman; he rarely confides in people, rarely tells them how he feels about things, instead preferring to sweep it under the rug and let his actions speak louder than his words - or exactly as loud, because Jecht is a loud man. A loud, confident man. A loud, confident, larger-than-life man.

And Jecht is, indeed, larger-than-life. He strides into the room with the commanding air of a professional athlete; he rides the wave of self-exellence like the professional that he is, charisma oozing off him. He may not know how to express his emotions, but Jecht is a glorious showman to go with his glorious talent. Few people can arrest the attention of a crowd of thousands the way Jecht can; few people can elict the same fervor, the same drive, as a few words and some flashy moves from the King of Blitz. He's larger-than-life, a cult of personality writ large, and he knows it. He shows it. He dresses it. He wears no shirt, he has a tattoo of his team burned into his chest forever; even his fighting style shows it, an eclectic mix of his own blitzball moves and sword techniques he picked up during his and Braska's journey. Showmanship is in Jecht's blood, and he'll never forget that it's that showyness that brought him to glory, to prosperity, and eventually gave him his son.

That larger-than-life persona he's cultivated can make him seem difficult to reach. Indeed, if Jecht doesn't want to hear something, he won't; he's got a million ways of effectively sticking his fingers in his ears if someone is full of it, and he's very good at turning arguments into contests and then winning them with sheer personality. It makes him a hard man to talk to, sometimes; though he's quite open and joking, and indeed a popular man, one can easily get the sense of never really getting to know the real Jecht, of being held at arm's length. This is a man who fears intimacy; Braska and Auron are the most intimate he's ever had as far as friends go, the first people to truly share in his hopes and his dreams and his pains and his fears, the first people to truly understand him. One of them's dead now; the other's also dead, but in a way that he can still go get a drink, so that's cool. Jecht's sort of eased up on the whole Shoopuf Milk thing, anyway; he's got a lot he'd very much like to forget, after all. A lot he'd very much like to wipe from his mind and ignore ever having been through.

See, Jecht's killed a lot of people. A staggering number of people. That doesn't sit well with a good man; even if someone points out that really Yu Yevon and Sin killed those people, Jecht feels responsible in the way only a truly kind-hearted man can, because in the end it was his hands that did the deed even if his heart wasn't in it. Well, his flippers. And he's terrified - truly, truly terrified - that Sin will return one day, and he'll stop being able to float through the world like the ghost/Aeon/thing he is and be forced back into that life of murder and destruction. So if he's gonna have a few drinks, and maybe start a few drunken barfights, and maybe be a bit of a drunken asshole, well, the way Jecht figures it, he's kinda earned that right. It's not like ANYONE ELSE IN THE ENTIRETY OF THE WORLDS can possibly comprehend what it is Jecht has gone through, right? No one else has ever survived being Sin. He's not sure that he has, mind, he's just freer than most of the poor schmucks who wind up dead inside the eternal murderous spacewhale, so he intends to enjoy it while it lasts. Maybe, when this is all over, he'll find a way to save his wife and son from the fate of Zanarkand, too; it's that hope that keeps Jecht going, that keeps him driving forward to try and work against what Yu Yevon's always intended.

In a really twisted, perverse sort of way, it's almost like Jecht has a martyr complex. He doesn't, of course; the sins he's trying to redeem himself for are many and numerous, and did in fact truly happen by his hand; he doesn't take the world's woes onto him, and he doesn't try to solve the big, grand, sweeping problems. He's not that guy; he's not that cerebral a man to propose solutions to all the world's ills. He's just a man with a sword and a ball, nothing more; he's got power, sure, and he's got skill, but he can't solve the whole world with that. What he can do, though, is help out where he can; he can help people in need, be a defender for those within his sight. That's exactly what he does, too, fighting injustice, the Heartless, and whatever other jerks he can find all across the worlds.

And he plays Blitzball. Oh, man, does he play Blitzball. Jecht is possibly the most talented athlete in the last thousand years of Spira (though Tidus has the potential to surpass him, if the kid ever really focuses up and gets going) and he loves his sport. He loves every sport; once Jecht discovers that other sports exist, he's going to go into them and master them with the same kind of ferocious fire that he mastered Blitzball with, because Jecht loves competition. Fierce, healthy competition is how people get better; it's how they get things done. Jecht can turn anything into a competition, no matter how mundane; competition is how Jecht makes friends, how he communicates. Real men communicate with competition, according to Jecht! They talk to each other by showing their manly fighting spirit and that sort of macho stereotype thing. It all goes back to that stereotype; it's how he covers his own insecurities and fears, adapted to his childhood, and deals with the world, even though he's had some maturation to mellow it out by now.

But most importantly - most importantly of all - Jecht loves his wife and son. He is absolutely terrible, god-awful at showing any sort of true intimacy to them, and he's even worse at encouraging Tidus, but he loves his son. He would do anything for his son. He would go to the ends of all the worlds for his son, and his dearest dream - shared with Braska and Auron one very drunken night - is to teach Tidus to be a star blitzball player just like he is, and train him up so he matches and surpasses Jecht's potential. But first he's gotta stop being such a galdanged crybaby! He's gotta man up, gotta grow up - gotta be like his old man. In Jecht's mind, though he is constantly afraid that his son loathes him to no end, Tidus must *want* to surpass him before he can. And, in Jecht's mind, he will. One day. And then they can share a manly victory hug or something like that, and perhaps Jecht will finally be able to say what he's been wanting to say for his whole life but never been quite capable of: "I love you, son."

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