Ultimecia is defeated. As life seems to return to normality the circle completes. Time recompresses. The end becomes the beginning, the story starts over again. Only Squall, Seifer and Rinoa seem to remember all that has happened - all the time they shared, and the love and bonds that grew. Can our heroes alter fate and finally end the procession of sorceresses?
********* Update 5/5/19 - Several chapters up now - From chapter 7 the story will take a huge divergence from the established game story. Looking forward to it. I have a lot planned. Very little feedback from the public. Would love comments to guide me and let me know what you guys think.
Nb: Some segments of this story have been taken from a fanfic I wrote years ago - 'Final Fantasy VIII-2' which I have since deleted as my writing skills have drastically improved.
He found her on the balcony. The party raged behind them. Hundreds of happy faces smiling and revelling in their victory. All a blur, unimportant. There was only one face that Squall wanted to see. Rinoa turned to greet him. They both smiled. Smiling did not come easy to Squall, but one look at her and he couldn't help but smirk. She raised her right hand, her index finger extended to the silvery trail tailing a falling star.
"Make a wish, Squall." Rinoa said in a gentle tone.
Squall took a step forward. She scanned his face. His eyes had changed; she was certain of that. They were no longer the cold, complacent eyes of the man that she had met all those months ago in Timber. The squinting eyes that looked dismissively on her when she informed him that she was the leader of a resistance movement. When talking he made eye contact now and generally tended to hold it - no longer looking over people's heads, or staring through them. His eyes were warm now, she could feel their warmth rolling across her body and face. His lips were no longer locked in a constant grin, he almost never muttered harsh criticisms or rudely dismissed his friends now. His brow no longer furrowed in a constant state of aloof indifference with the world and those around him. Even his demeanour and body language had changed. His shoulders were more-often-than-not loose and untensed. He had a spring in his step, a looseness in his arms. He had found a purpose in life - something bigger than himself, love and friends. He walked and acted now like a man who had something to call his own.
More than love and friends he had a home now. Squall looked over the balcony's railing, the rolling plains of Alcaud were bathed in moonlight below - beyond the twinkling lights in the town of Balamb. Balamb and Balamb Garden had always been a place to Squall - a place to live, a place to train; just a place. Nothing more. But over the past weeks he'd fought for it, protected it - this island, its one small town and all of its people were his people now. This was his home. A real home.
Squall had changed. Whether he'd be willing to admit it or not was a different story. But Rinoa knew it. She could see it. Nothing could, or would convince her otherwise. Even if the others had not noticed his changes yet. But maybe it wasn't a change, per say; maybe it was a reawakening, a thawing. The warming of an icy soul, frozen by the cruelty of the world - hardened in a constant struggle to protect a gentle, loving core. Either way Rinoa was happy. He caught her in a slight smile as he continued to shuffle toward her. He paused a few feet from Rinoa, gazed at the night sky and smiled.
As she opened her mouth to speak he reached for her, wrapping his right arm around her lower back and drawing her body into his. Her gentle curves and folds enveloped into his hard, muscled body. Their eyes met. The silvery rays of the moon reflected in her pupils. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and toyed with his hair. Almost magnetically their heads drifted toward each other. Closer, closer, until Rinoa could feel his warm breath on her cheek. Then their lips connected. Rinoa tensed her body, releasing a low sigh as Squall pulled her tighter.
He pulled away, sharply, looking awkwardly at the moon. She wasn't upset at the duration of their first kiss. She simply continued to play with his hair as she gazed at the tiled floor. He was trying. He was really trying; trying hard.
"This is where it all started," He said in a clear tone as their eyes met once again.
"Where what started?" She questioned as she glanced at the scar on his forehead.
"Look into my eyes," Squall said with a cocky smirk, "You're-going-to-like-me. You're-going-to-like me," he continued, smirking until the last word.
"…I can't dance," Rinoa said, trying to mimic Squall's deep voice. The two laughed. As the last silvery trail of the falling star vanished behind the horizon the two started to dance. Not a rigid, awkward dance like their first. This was a slow swaying of two lovers. Two young people in love, gazing into each others' eyes. A waltz for the moon. Rinoa reached forward and their lips connected once again. When Squall opened his eyes Rinoa was gone. A void of blackness stretched out before him - an inky, all-encompassing darkness.
"You brought everything full-circle," A voice rang out, seemingly coming from all directions.
"Who's there?" Squall demanded, he tried to punch the air but his fists were heavy, numb; as if pushing through water. He spiralled in the inky abyss.
"It couldn't have worked better, really," The voice continued. It was a female voice; crisp, clear, monotone. Squall stopped thrashing and listened. He knew who the voice belonged to. - he just didn't want to believe it could be true. "Winning was not a certainty. Not for me, anyway. The odds were in your favour, they always were. Victory came down to variables, decisions. I chose the wrong decision the first time."
A light appeared around Squall. It pulsated, then dimmed. Golden rays spread in all directions. A scene emerged. A scene from Squall's childhood - the orphanage. Squall could see himself standing by young Matron's side. Ultimecia appeared, battered and beaten. She stumbled toward Matron, clumsy and awkward with blood pouring from wounds dotted across her body. "It was you who brought it all full-circle, Squall," The voice continued, "You brought me to Matron. You, Squall, you gave me another chance! I followed you through time. I followed you here." Ultimecia grabbed Matron, her claw-like fingers piercing the skin of Matron's shoulders. The wounded Ultimecia looked at Squall, her eyes glowing.
Black plumes of smoke streamed out from between the two women. Ultimecia's fingers dissolved into Matron's shoulders. Matron's body seemed to be numbed, still and lifeless. But her eyes were alive with fear, her mouth open as if releasing a silent scream. "Thank you, Squall," Ultimecia said. All faded to black.
The conductor's whistle woke Rinoa. She jumped forward in her seat, struggling to come to her senses. "Squall!?" She roared.
"Balamb, in fact," The elderly conductor said, leaning toward Rinoa. "Are you okay, ma'am?" He continued.
"I…. I…. Did you see the guy who was with me?" Rinoa questioned, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her right hand.
"Now my mind is not what it once was, ma'am," The conductor said, scratching his head. Wrinkles like folds in velvet formed on his forehead as he strained to think, "Seems to me like you got on alone. Slept most of the way, too!"
Rinoa dismissed the conductor with a smile. A dream. That was all it was, she told herself. A really interesting, vivid dream. But a dream none-the-less. She focused her mind back on the task at hand – finding Headmaster Cid. More and more as of late she had been spending time on trains. Most of her time, in fact. Too much time. Her whole life seemed to revolve around tracks, and the inescapable fact that they can only lead someone in one of two predetermined directions.
Balamb was not like Galbadia. That was a good thing. Rinoa loved Balamb. Strolling to the pier she inhaled the crisp, salty sea breeze. Life here was simpler. People were friendlier. Birds chirped as fishermen lounged by the seafront. People passed each other with nods and polite smiles. There was no congestion, no grime, no pollution. Just clean, fresh air.
"We don't have any bicycles here, I'm afraid." The garage clerk said, freeing a cloth from his back pocket which he dabbed on his forehead a few times. "Only cars… Do ya a really good deal on a vintage model. Give you the daily rate, beats the hourly rate!"
"Can't drive," Rinoa exclaimed, clasping her hands behind her back and rising up onto her toes. "You know where I can get a bike?" The clerk shook his head disapprovingly, before returning to his work.
"You want a car? I'm your man! You want a bike, you're outta luck." The clerk's voice called out as Rinoa exited the garage. It was a long walk to Balamb Garden. Rinoa should know, she'd walked it before. During the Summer… Seifer flashed in her mind. Followed by Squall.
"My dream boy is more of a man than Seifer..." Rinoa exclaimed, slumping down on a bench near the junk shop.
"That's my spot," A male voice called out, "You're sitting in my seat. I sit there every day!"
Rinoa stuttered her words, failing to form a coherent sentence.
"I'm just joking," The man reassured, slumping down beside Rinoa. "Best views of the ocean by far!" The man continued. "Plus you get to greet all the people coming from the train station. Some lovely people. You see, there's no real reason to come to Balamb, other than scenery, or the Garden. It's the end-of-the-line, train won't go any further. So you know the people who come here really make the effort to be here. That's why I'm here, to welcome them." A gentle breeze ruffled Rinoa's cardigan, she threw her eyes to the ground.
"Guessin' you are not here for the scenery?"
"Garden," Rinoa quipped back. "I do love the scenery too, though."
"Long walk, ain't it?"
"Yup," Rinoa answered, standing up.
"Doesn't look like you drive…" The man said, scanning Rinoa up-and-down. "I tell you what," He continued, "I enjoyed our little chat. Lemme see what I can do for ya". The man stood up, and place two fingers in his mouth. He whistled, a deep, screeching whistle, "Ma!" he roared, "Ma Dincht!"
"WHAT!?" A voice answered back. A door across the street flew open and a short, stocky woman bounded out.
"Callin' in a favour, Ma. This girl," The man pointed at Rinoa, "She's here visiting. Looks like they're outta bikes at the garage. You got an old bike in there, Whaddaya say?"
Ma Dincht scanned Rinoa from head-to-foot and back again twice. The woman was familiar to Rinoa, she had seen her before, she knew it.
"Don't seem like a bad kid….." Ma said, mumbling to herself as she balled her fists up and push them into her waist. "I tell you what," Ma continued, "I'll give you a LOAN of my old bike. That is, if you do one thing for me?"
Oh?" Rinoa questioned, cracking a wide, toothy smile.
"That good for nothin' boy of mine, Zell. He's a student up at Garden… You tell him to come to visit me!"
Rinoa set off at a blistering pace on her borrowed bike. The rolling plains of Alcaud opening up before her, dotted with dense forests all hemmed by a crystal blue sea.
"Stay on the road!" Ma Dincht roared, flapping a dishcloth in the air, "Stay on the road. Too many monsters in the fields!"
Squall froze. A flood of thoughts pulsing through his mind. A girl appeared before him. Petite, slight, ivory pale with flowing black hair. She smiled at him. Then a flash. Pain. The blade connected with his face. He responded, throwing his own sword into the face of his rival. All slipped to blackness again.
Seifer knelt by his fallen rival and felt his pulse - Squall was still alive. Pushing a tuft of matted brown hair from Squall's forehead the full extent of the wound became visible. A deep cut, but not too deep – deep enough to leave a scar. Seifer slumped back and ran his gloved hand over his own face. Streams of warm, sticky blood spewed from a gash above his nose. The blood stung his eyes and drew its way up his nostrils with each laboured breath he drew.
"We'll call it even for now, big guy."
This was the second time that they'd had this fight. Seifer knew it. But he didn't know if Squall knew yet or not. Both times Seifer had dealt the winning blow by cheating. Magic. Fire to be more exact. Seifer steadied himself, before leaning down and catching Squall's torso. With a grunt and a strong pull he lifted his unconscious rival onto his back. There would be other battles, but not today. As Seifer entered Balamb Garden a crowd of onlookers gathered, pointing and whispering. From the centre of the crowd Fujin appeared. A fellow member of the disciplinary committee, Fujin was 17-years-old, short, slim, with neck length silvery hair that shimmered. In a momentary lapse of judgement Fujin raised her signature eye-patch as she closed in for a better look at Seifer's burden.
"DEAD!?" She exclaimed, taking a step back and stamping her left foot.
"No. Not dead," Seifer answered as he took an uneasy step forward. "Now gimme a hand, will ya?" As Seifer plodded along awkwardly Fujin ploughed ahead intimidating the swelling crowd of onlookers into standing back. Seifer's legs cramped and shivered. His clothes were dirtied and body bloodied. His sword was blunted, but that mattered little - he had won. A victory was a victory. Seifer dropped Squall onto the first empty bed he could see. "Next time," Seifer whispered as he turned to leave, "I'll get you next time... Without magic!"