9/4/07

The characters and setting in this story is the sole property of Square-Enix. I have borrowed them for a short while and have no intention of profiting from the use thereof.

Battle Boy

Elma was taking down names and other particulars of new recruits when the slightly chubby young man stepped up to her desk outside the main tent of the Youth League.

"So you want to join us? We accept almost everybody but we do want to know a little bit about the ones who take our oath. What's your name?" She smiled at him in a prefunctionary manner.

"I'm called Clasko, ma'am." He drew himself up in as soldierly a pose as he could manage.

"Clasko! What're you doing here?" Elma suddenly focused on the face in front of her and recognized her former companion from the Chocobo Knights.

"I went broke trying to raise chocobos in the middle of a depression and need to find some way to scrape up another stake. So... here I am. Can I join?"

"Sure. You get an automatic pass. But why us? You never much liked fighting; it was the birds that held you. Can't you find another way to earn a living? One that's better for you?" Elma was genuinely concerned for her old comrade in arms.

"Well," he spoke so softly that only she could hear. "I've got a little edge here, I think. You see, I was the Mevyn's battle boy. He'll remember."

That got her full attention. She looked up sharply. "You were what? When?"

"His battle boy - back when he was a Captain in the Crusaders. While Sin was alive. We were in the same theatre most of the time and... he found me."

"Battle boy." Elma's tone was flat, non-committal.

"Battle boy, that's right." Clasko smiled nervously.

"Does the Meyvn know you're here? He didn't send for you?"

"Oh no. I heard he was forming this group and thought I might be useful."

"I see. Well, sign here and find yourself a place to sleep. There're lots of tents and ... er, I'm sure you'll find some old friends and ... Well, welcome to the Youth League. Next!" She looked past his shoulder and beckoned to the girl standing behind him. After a moment, she touched Clasko's sleeve. "I'm really glad to see you again. Go take a look at our chocobos; I'll try to have you assigned to them. OK?"

-X-

Nooj was only vaguely aware of the fact that the flap of the tent had been lifted and someone had entered the dimly lighted space. He was engrossed in the study of the sphere playing on the screen before him. It was scratched and dim but he could still make out a faint image of a towering structure and what might have been a recessed keyboard or instrument panel. He leaned closer and fiddled with the focusing controls until a slight noise caught his attention.

A dark figure was silhouetted against the glare of the outside light. Nooj raised his right hand to shield his eyes and squinted in an effort to make out who stood there. "Who is it? And what do you want?"

"It's Clasko, sir." A soft hesitant voice, long unheard, came to his ears. "I was told you were in here and wanted to report."

"Clasko? What are you doing here?" There was scant welcome in the deep voice.

"I've just joined the Youth League and felt like I should tell you in case..."

Letting the flap drop behind him, the figure moved toward the circular table. He seemed to be a young man still carrying the baby-fat of his late teens and the open face of a child. In fact, he was considerably older than he looked; his apprearance had been a great advantage to him in his chosen career path.

"In case? In case what?" Nooj barked with a certain impatience but the younger man was already on his hands and knees, creeping under the table. "What are you up to? Stop!"

Clasko paid no heed, settling himself between the Meyvn's knees and adroitly undoing the buttons of his fly. He did not permit himself to indicate by either sound or action his shock at his first close-up sight of the machina prosthesis. He had not seen his paramour since the Crusader days and even though, like most of Spira, he had known of the multilations Nooj had suffered, hearing about and seeing were very different things. Taking his attention under firm control, he reminded himself that this was his Captain - nothing had really changed.

Nooj moved to swat the man away but stayed his hand. The morning had been a long one; he had not slept well and the duties of leadership were becoming increasingly wearying. Instead of resisting, he let himself slump down in the chair and spread his thighs further apart.

When he felt himself sheathed in the warm mouth of the battle boy he had used so often in the past, it was as though he had returned to a time when he was intact, when the world was open before him and everything was possible - including an honourable death. He let himself sink into that dream which was so far away these days and forget - if only for a short while - the worries about Spira and how to handle New Yevon and that weird contingent at Djose. His consciousness became forcused on the sensations coming from his groin and the pleasures he had not experienced for far too long. His fists, both the flesh and the machina one, clenched on the surface before him and his heart thundered in his ears. The climax, when it came, was almost more than he could contain, leaving him panting and nearly faint.

Clasko drew a spotless handkerchief from his pocket and efficiently tidied up his master and himself, fastening the fly and making sure no traces of the indiscreet encounter were left to embarrass the Meyvn. "Was that satisfactory, sir?" He waited judgement until Nooj could speak again.

"Yes. Thank you, Clasko. I had forgotten your skills and didn't realize how much I had missed them."

"I can be here each morning about this time if you would like, sir." Clasko stood at half attention, a sweet smile on his ruddy lips.

"No. That's too self-indulgent. Three times a week will be sufficient. I shall instruct my guards to admit you and no one else on those days. And ... come to my sleeping tent about ten tonight. We can set up a schedule then. Now, dismissed." Nooj turned back to his sphere which had been running unobserved the entire time.

"Yessir." Clasko saluted and left the tent. He was satisfied for the first time in years. He had always been one who needed a secure place for himself, a place where he could avoid fighting and would be protected. Now, to check out the chocobos. He had heard they had a remarkable herd somewhere around here. Chocobos were his passion.

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