The anchoring process is a rush, a rollercoaster with no fastening to protect him than the sense of Esteban holding onto some part of - maybe all - of him to keep him whole. And still if he loses focus, if he doesn't keep a hold on the thought and goal pulling him forward, he knows he'll slip.

And what does it mean, to slip in the void? Tidus won't find out. Inigo, Inigo, Inigo.

The thoughts that carry him aren't just privy to him and the void. It spills through to Esteban, a passenger to every thought, every feeling; the blue-haired man's smile, his touch, the sight of him in the mornings, laying in bed. The conversation held between them in the greenhouse before Inigo's flowers, crouched; Tidus holding his hand for comfort and wishing he could help let Inigo live the life of someone free. Fields of flowers conjured from memories of Inigo's own childhood, somewhere for him to dance freely.

('We promised to be there for each other,' Inigo had reminded him calmly, sure; and Tidus realised how much he'd come to rely on Inigo after all.)

And before he's even truly in Ylisse, there's a power, a call being made to try and get Inigo to hear him, to let him appear where he is. A permission, a plea, a feeling and Inigo repeating his name in his head.

Inigo, it's me, Inigo, hear me hear me hear me--

Because if he can reach him, the power he received from Diagad will let him find Inigo.