Jecht is still not quite tame, still out of place in Spira, but he changed somehow when he put the drink aside, and again on hearing the legend of Zanarkand: the thought of the ruined city has clearly stung him with doubt more than once. And Braska: still as kind as ever, still keeping the peace between his guardians as he quietly conceals his own worries, even in this fine place to live.

But they’re both in the bright blue water, and they’re both waving and calling Auron’s name. So he grins, waves back, and steps in to join them.