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Note: Okay, I'm not even gonna bother with disclaimers, since if you think I own any part of Final Fantasy or its characters then I seriously wonder how you had the intelligence to work a computer to find this fic, no offense. Pertaining to this story though, I know that there are characters from the game that aren't mentioned in this first chapter, and it's only because they haven't come up yet. Originally, I had planned for all the canon characters to appear with in the first couple of chapters. That is, until I realized how many chapters just the first arc of the story would take up. By chapter 7 though, the majority make appearances or are at least the story progresses though, I am aiming toward a grander scale, incorporating all of the canon characters and a plethora of original characters. Please, feel free to comment on either type. Also, don't jump to any conclusions about 'shippiness' or whatever you wanna call it. This isn't particularly a romance, though such aspects probably will be involved. This is more of a 'What if…?' venture. If you enjoy it, please let me know, and if you want to critique, that's cool too, as it is helpful to know what I'm doing wrong in my writing . Please Read and Review. – Lunauc


Duelist's Law

Chapter 1: Finding one's path…

"Hhhyyyaahh!"

The high flying axe kick came down hard to meet a ready forearm to block the blow. The defender's strong frame barely shook from the hard heel, and he quickly forced back, pushing his attacker's one legged stance off balance. Proving a nimble opponent though, the shorter striker resigned himself to a backward handspring to keep from falling flat on his rear. Yet, half way through, as he balanced momentarily on his palms, he heard the fierce grunt of his opponent, signaling a coming attack. Vulnerable in this position the lighter fighter could not defend, or attack in any worthwhile way. All he could do was drop. Strong arms, went limp beneath him, as he fell face first for the floor. Coordinated rhythm let him roll his head forward and his hands planted to keep his chest from impacting too hard. The glancing scrape of a foot along the back of his thigh was proof of avoidance, as his body went slack and rolled to the floor like the arch of a rocking chair. He avoided that kick, but noting quickly only one of his opponent's feet in view before him, the acrobat knew he had to move quickly. Rolling hastily to the left, he heard a foot stomp hard on the mat where he had just lain. There was no time to rest, he had to regain a stance, or he was finished. Scissoring his legs, he quickly rotated his lower body, using the perpetuating force to kip up to a stance at his enemy's flank, just in time to block a back handed punch, as the larger fighter knowingly spun to meet him. Following up fluidly with a roundhouse kick, the shorter figure just managed to raise his knee in time to deflect with his leg. Still, the power knocked him back a bit and the larger man wasted no time in following up. A flurry of brutal punches rushed at the smaller fighter, who skillfully dodged and parried them with open hands. Their groans and grunts echoed off the planked walls of the dojo in which they battled. The hard footfalls of the duelists beat at the tatami. They were fast and fierce, though they were starting to tire from the exertion. The smaller one's fatigue from trying to keep up with his stronger opponent was starting to show in the form of noticeable sheen of sweat and hard ragged breaths. After almost half of an hour of this combat, the larger man was not much better off, considering he had more mass to be moving. However, being the one in control of the tempo and pace of the fight, his obvious experience gave him a clear advantage. His younger. smaller challenger was not about to let that get in the way though. Foregoing technique and precautions, he took a hop back, crouching down as his overwhelming opponent struck forward, his arms up to protect his body while he intended to sweep forth with his right leg to the younger fighter's shoulder. Before the leg could connect with its target though, the boy sprung forward and corkscrewed face up in the air. Hands forward as he rose over the kick, he cleared the larger man's blocking arms aside just enough to deliver a fierce spearing head butt to his gut. The muscle bound man doubled over as the breath was violently blown from his lungs. Now with the upper hand, the smaller and quicker fighter, still bent backward with his head in the others stomach, grabbed his opponents waist, shifted his shoulder against the mans gut and kicked off the ground to aim a crushing knee blow at his massive foe's face. It never quite made it that far though, as a firm hand batted the knee back and a thick arm closed down around the young man's head, holding his face firmly and unpleasantly in the larger man's armpit. Before the boy could struggle away the other large arm snaked under the boy's arm and the strong hands of the older fighter clasped together, all while he was coughing and huffing to get breath back. After a few unappetizing moments of flailing and gagging from the held boy, the larger man finally began breathing right again and used the fresh air in him to gloat, "Okay, brat, now... Who is the Master?" A few more seconds of struggling and finally the winner released his hold, dropping the boy to the ground.

The boy coughed and snorted, trying to get the malodorous stench out of his senses, while he pushed himself up to his hands and knees. Not bothering to look up he managed out gruffly, "Don'h know… hahk… but he don'h bathe enuff. Hggack!"

The large man, glared down at his student, stating in a warning tone, "Watch it, Gau, or maybe you want a second treatment of my special 'Stinkface Hold'!" The martial artist struck a proud muscle flexing pose over his now slightly green faced student's sickened form.

Flipping over on to his back, letting out a final nostril clearing snort, Gau shook his head, answering sternly in his gruff and mispronouncing voice, "HELL NO! I hate that attack. Yah know my nose's a lot more sens'tive than other people's."

"That's why I did it, Dummy." Sabin growled back at his student of four and a half years, nudging the boy's side with a quick toe jab. "You may not have many real weaknesses, kid, but they are there. And a smart opponent will monopolize on them." Lying on the ground, hands folded lazily on his abdomen, Gau just nodded back to his mentor, obviously disinterested. Noting the boy's attitude, Sabin let out a weary sigh, suggesting, "I don't think you're ready yet, Gau." With that he turned away, heading toward the open doorway and out into the warm sun of early morning. Taking only a second to slip into his sandals, he wasn't even completely out the door before his student's call came.

"I am ready!" Gau somersaulted toward the door, planting his feet to stand and hastily followed after his mentor. Meeting him along the brick layed path back to the humble cabin nearby, he insisted, "I'm ten times a fighter most guys my age're. Yah know I can compete!" Sabin spun back to look his student over appraisingly.

The boy had gone quiet, as Sabin took him in. Gau had grown a lot from the wild boy he was years back. Under Sabin's tutelage he had grown into a strong young man of almost eighteen years. Now standing only a few inches short of six feet, his physique remained very lithe and wiry, though tightly networked by well defined muscles that made him deceptively much stronger and faster than one would assume at first glance. Heck, he was almost on par with Sabin in terms of strength; a man practically twice his size. The scrutinizing gaze rising back up to a head sprouting a wild mane of spiky green hair and focusing on a pair of anxious and determined red eyes, Sabin let out a frustrated breath.

Nodding begrudgingly, he admitted, "Yeah, you are better than most your age, and you do have the reputation to qualify you, what with having helped save the world and all." Sabin made mocking 'whoop-dee-doo' gesture before stating finitely, "But you're still making a lot of the dangerous mistakes you were making way back when." Turning away, he began toward the back door of the house again, his student eagerly following.

With an annoyed tone to his voice, Gau retorted, "Whut? Just cuz I can't beat you? Last I recall, yer undefeated in the league. Do I havta be the best just ta enter?"

Stopping as he opened the back door which led into the kitchen, Sabin turned back one final time to reply, "No. You have to keep control." Stepping into the house, he called back without looking, "Get the dojo fixed up and get changed. The students will be arriving soon for the morning class." The door slid closed behind him and Gau just stood there, staring after his departed master. Jaw squared and eyes narrowed as he let out a feral growl. With a huff, he shook off the bestial tone and headed back toward the dojo to perform his chores. Much as he hated to admit it, he knew what Sabin was talking about, and he was partly right. The biggest reason, Sabin had insisted on training Gau in the martial arts was to help him gain control over the animal within himself. That fierce nature which fueled his monster emulating rages always took him over mind and body, leaving him as little more than an instinctive killing machine. Such was the defense his subconscious had created for a poor child left alone to defend himself against the horrors of the Veldt. Yet now among friends and allies, and no longer suffering and alone, he sought to rid himself of the fear and hatred he'd carried for so long. The martial arts made for a fine outlet. It allowed him to fight without resorting to the strength of his rage. Still, even after the years of learning and conditioning, it was still there beneath the surface. Whenever he was losing or a fight would drag on too long and he would become frustrated and impatient, bits of that wild nature would come to surface, just as Sabin had quickly noticed in Gau's kamikaze head butt. Like his Master said, Gau still had a ways to go in fully taming his monster. However, would he really be able to overcome his nature if he continued to avoid confrontation?


It has been four years, five months, two weeks and two days since Kefka's defeat, and the world has changed greatly since his chaotic reign. The determined people wasted no time rebuilding their towns and reestablishing their lives, and the now legendary heroes who had brought them this global revitalization were the first to be looked to for guidance. Edgar, King of Figaro, hesitantly reclaimed his thrown in response to the heartfelt call of his countrymen. Since then he has put every fiber of his being into being a leader worthy of them. Figaro was the first nation to be truly rebuilt, and even expanded to incorporate the northern continents of Kohlingen and Narshe, as well being the main representative to the Mobliz Peninsula.

The people remaining in the small villages of what was left of Doma sought the guidance of their nation's former general Cyan Garamonde, offering him the title of King, though he humbly turned it down. Still he helped establish a new government to pull together the rural communities of the now small island nation, and eventually accepted a position as elected Prime Minister over a body of elected heads from the four regions of Doma. Though he has accepted an executive position his life is still dedicated to swordsmanship, which he has chosen to pass on to a group of chosen soldiers from the various villages. Maintaining the way of Doma's traditional fighting styles is one of his strongest intents.

To the southwest a new government began in Jidoor, where the wealthy Lord Owzer was propositioned by of all people Setzer Gabbiani to go into the political career. Since Figaro was rapidly raised once more, they were going to need a bit of healthy economic competition or so the gallivanting gambler insisted. A whirlwind of promotion swept the continent and before anyone really bothered to dispute it Owzer was declared President to the rather unorthodox Republic of Jidoor. Many people say Setzer is the real "power behind the throne" so to speak, yet he publicly remains quiet on the issue, happily maintaining his casinos which he has opened across the continent as well as a few off the continent.

Meanwhile, Thamasa has remained an independent city state, and their boundaries are adamantly respected, especially since they have begun allowing in outsiders who have been studying the phenomenon of magic within the community. After the Kefka ordeal, many people outside of the confined island also began to show potential in the magical arts which have been theorized as a side effect of the chaos unleashed on the world. In treaty agreements, it was decided that a school would be built in Thamasa where young hopefuls since have been trained to harness and safely control their abilities. Many people see these young protégés as a sign of a bright new future for a world which had come so close to oblivion, and old Strago Magus is proud to be the appointed Head Master of the School.

The last Nation to arise was New Vector. Established only two and a half years ago on the land where Kefka's ominous tower once stood. Former soldiers of the Empire bound together the cities of Albrook and Tzen with a former low standing General by the name of Andre Larres; a strong-minded and iron-willed man who is well respected by his subordinates and citizens alike. Building an efficient and regimented society on the continent they have become a healthy and respected people, if not rather lacking in funds and, as Owzer claimed it once at a Summit meeting, Style. Regardless of superficial claims, New Vector was a comfortable success, with Larres as the first president. They are even building a new capitol over the remains of what was once Kefka's Tower. They had hoped to expand the country to encompass the far forking peninsulas to the Northeast. However, Figaro is currently in control of the Eastern Peninsula and more directly the town of Mobliz. They have also been in disputes over control of the Northern Peninsula with Doma, all three nations arguing over control of Nikeah. Similar diputes have arisen over the isle North of Doma, and in the last couple of years Narshe has been calling for rights of independence from Figaro.

Obviously these problems could not be ignored. However, the new world leaders had no desire to rekindle the forgotten armies of the past to fight over how to rebuild their world. Summits were held often between the figure heads and delegates trying to mediate fair and peaceful agreements, which all too often didn't work out. Oddly enough, the most competent and peaceful idea came from of all people the Master of the Coliseum. A man, who promoted violence and brutality, suggested just that to the world leaders. Handpicked warriors from each country would be allowed to compete in tournaments to decide the fate of political decisions. It was a wonderful alternative to war, and the people thrilled at the feats of combat that it boasted. Quickly the "Duelist's Law" was instituted, and has become a key to governing relations. The new law arose a state of combat fever, which spread quickly among the citizenry, who didn't want to wait for international disruptions just to see a fight. So new arenas have been constructed for general dueling venues. Soldiers who had been out of work since Kefka's rise and freelance martial artists were quick to join the craze in search of easy money and fame, though few rise to such heights. The sport is especially popular in places like Jidoor for the gambling aspect and New Vector due to the high population of former soldiers. However, the swordsmen of Doma are known to be among the strongest competitors and once in a while a magic-user from Thamasa will make an appearance on the circuit as well. Though, whether fought in one of the great arenas or in a Black Market pit, the Duelists are well respected and some times gain celebrity status.

Sabin, though he opted for a simple life as a Martial Arts instructor after the war, has often answered the call of his Brother Edgar to fight on behalf of Figaro. So far undefeated in the three tournaments he's participated in, Sabin is acclaimed as one of the best fighters in the world, which greatly increased his dojo enrollment. A good deal of intense training and hard labor did manage to ward off the less serious students though. Still, his first and most accomplished student is Gau. Having taken the boy in after the war, Sabin has intensively trained him to fight with calm precision rather than blind rage. His old habits still persist, yet Gau is determined to push himself forward and has even asked permission to become a Duelist to test himself against other fighters. So far Sabin has refused the boy's request. However, the former wild child will not give up on the notion so easily.


"Right Punch! Left Kick! Left Hook! Right block!" Standing before the kamiza, Sabin called out his orders to fourteen of his students, who were paired off on the dojo floor. One of each pair intricately followed the commands while the other performed the proper blocks and counters. The exercise had been going on for over twenty minutes now, steadily gaining in pace, with partners switching frequently who would take the command. All of the present students were boys and girls ranging from twelve to nineteen. Most were still amateurs having joined in the last year, and having held on through Master Figaro's harsh lessons. He was famous for having sessions that could last from dawn til late after dark, since he never ended things until he was satisfied with each member's performance. Hence why so many wannabe's usually dropped out after the first day. Today's session was already in its third hour, and coming up on noon, one eighteen year old who had gotten fed up had already walked out half an hour ago. The school's four seniors, having been around since near or before the time of the dojo's establishment three years back, sparred along the left wall from the Kamiza. Gau was paired at the head with a burly young nineteen year old by the name of Brock. Garbed in a cut purple muscle shirt to display a chiseled physique and pair of sturdy white training pants held on by a stiffly tied red belt, his crew cut black hair closely resembling their Master, and having a stance and fighting style neatly and strongly applied in order with Sabin's command, he was obviously one of the tougher students in the dojo. However, Gau, currently dressed in a pair of baggy yellow short pants and a plain white sleeveless gi shirt, tied on with a black belt, effortlessly dodged and blocked the instructed blows, countering with creative and some times odd replies. After all, the point of this exercise was both to ingrain the moves and techniques of the school, as well as to encourage the one not taking commands to think of ways around those stances and blows, both to prepare for fighting of other schools and to cultivate improvisation and development of the style. Sabin would avidly watch these sessions, often picking people out to come to the front and display new ideas, testing their feasibility. Whether a worthy move or not, each display did make for a learning experience in what would and would not work. "Cease!" On Sabin's command, all of the students halted their sparring, taking a rigid stance before each other. "Line up." Quickly the students moved to position to sit on the floor, seniors along the left side; Joseki, and the nine underclassman lined up along the right side; Shimoseki. Taking his own seat before the alter at the Kamiza, Sabin took a stern look around at his students, who apprehensively waited, breathing hard though keeping straight postures, expecting to be either chastised or be given harsh new orders from their Master, given his currently steely expression. After a long moment of silence though, they were all relieved to see a smirk break on his face. With an amused little chortle at their worried looks, Sabin spoke affably, "You all did very well today. Class is dismissed." A few scattered cheers and a lot of tired sighs came from the gathered students, who happily rose from their seats to begin their cleaning duties before leaving.

While the others moved to start wiping down the floors and put away the equipment, a couple of students moved to speak with Master Sabin. One was an underclassman, who regrettable admitted he'd been missing some classes from now on because his Mother was insisting he get a tutor to help bring up his grades in school. Sabin sighed wearily, consenting to the boy who quickly bowed to his Master and then hurried to join his friends in getting the floor clean so they could go. The other student before him was his third senior, Carina Tellius, a rather reserved though ambitious girl of seventeen. She has a surprisingly regal upbringing, for a martial artist, as the daughter to a wealthy land owner in South Figaro. Her chestnut brown hair was tied back in a pony-tail to show a pretty, round face, which most of the boys pulled their punches to keep from hitting, and quickly regretted when she would strike back with a punch harder than most of the guys. Since joining up she has studied hard to be one of the top students and keeps on par as a senior student, in spite of being busy attending a prestigious private school. Though she lacks the greater strength of some others, she does have a keen eye for movement and a competence for counter attacks that have gained her high ranking in several female junior and amateur duelist competitions around Figaro. In the coed ranks she tends to fall behind though is still known to place well. Standing before her teacher in a fitted powder blue gi, string-tied closed at the side, she speaks pleadingly to him, "Didn't you see my knee block counter, Master? The follow up punch got right threw Alonso's defense."

Sabin gave a nod in agreement following up with, "Yes it did. But the stance you took had too many weaknesses. You're torso was wide open. Only one foot was holding you up making you unbalanced, and most of your weight was still shifted back from your kick, so you couldn't put much any force behind the punch itself. Sorry, but it just wouldn't work out."

Gaping back at him Carina whined back, "Oh come on. It can work! It just needs some improvement."

"I'd say a lot of improvement." Brock chimed in from behind her as he strolled over, "I mean you can't expect everyone to want to learn a move just because Alonso couldn't block it. Then we'd be learning all kinds of garbage."

Picking up on the berating tone, the fourth senior in question lifted his gaze from his duty at hand of wiping down the tatami floor to argue back at Brock, "Hey, I heard that, muscle head!" Alonso, crouched on the floor with a rag in hand, glared to the older boy. At sixteen he is the youngest of the seniors and coincidentally the smallest. He stands just a hair over five feet even though he doesn't have one strand of it on his thoroughly shaven, round head. He has a very gentle nature which has earned him the title of class runt even among the younger kids who couldn't beat him. Though Brock always seemed an exception with the boy.

Brock shrugged, mockingly replying, "Who ever said I was trying to keep it secret?" The older and younger seniors often butted heads. Regardless of Alonso's kind persona, Brock's cocky attitude usually got under his skin.

Screwing up his rather childish face into a sneer, Alonso warned, "Yeah, we'll just see how you feel about my skills at Saturday's competition. I'm gonna blow you away!"

Brock chortled in response, commenting offhandedly, "Oh, you'll blow alright."

Suddenly red in the face, Alonso bickered back, "You stupid sonova…"

"SHUT IT!" Their Master's call quieted them both, as Sabin looked back and forth between the boys, remarking in consideration, "I hear a lot of stupid words between you two sometimes, and you know what those words are today? I hear the two of you volunteering to finish clean up duties for everyone." Hearing that, the other students stopped their chores to look up at the Master, whom the two seniors were now gaping at in disbelief. Addressing the rest of the class, Sabin instructed, "Thank you everyone, you can go home early to day. Your seniors have graciously decided to do your chores for you." A bevy of cheers passed among the students along with a few scattered cries of "Thank you, seniors!"

While the others stood to leave, calling back their goodbyes to their master, Brock tried to argue, "But, Master, th-that's not fair."

Waving to his departing students, Sabin stared down his upset senior, warning him sternly, "I have not rescinded my previous "Shut it", so keep your mouth shut and get to work, now!"

Brock gave an aggravated groan as he begrudgingly turned to walk toward a rag left on the floor to help Alonso wipe it down. On passing the still kneeling boy, the bald kid, commented off hand, "This is all your fault." Not bothering to reply, Brock just answered with a kick to the boys raised rear in passing, sending him face first into the dojo floor. Quickly righting himself, Alonso kicked back into Brock's shin.

"Ow! You little creep!" Brock cursed at the younger boy while rubbing at a now sore raised leg.

"THAT'S IT!!" Sabin yelled, reaching back near the altar to grab an old bamboo cane. "It's time to receive your Master's disciplining! Now get over here!" Wasting no more time than it took to glance at each other, Brock and Alonso were up and running out of the dojo, with Sabin rushing close after them. "Don't run away! Take your punishment like men!" While they cried like little children running from a big scary monster, Carina and Gau stayed back in the dojo, laughing there heads off at the display.

Gau, who had been quietly stuffing training gloves back into a duffle bag, strolled over to Carina, while watching out the open doorway as the screaming boys ran back and forth to avoid Sabin's wrath. With one more giggle, Carina commented to Gau, "One of these days, those two are gonna be the death of each other, and Master Sabin's going to be the cause."

Gau snickered back, nodding in agreement, but added thoughtfully, "Maybe... maybe, but fighting with each other duz make'em stronger. One of'em might even win thuh Amatuer Competition dis weekend." As he watched them running through the yard, a purposeful cough from the girl beside him reminded the boy to hastily amend, "Or you... You've gotten a lot stronger in thuh last coupla' munths too."

Grinning at that, Carina blushed a bit at his consideration, replying politely, "Gee, thanks, Gau. That means a lot coming from you." She glanced at him while he watched the other boys still running for their lives with a grin on his, in her opinion, handsome face. Chewing her lip for a second, she added, "It's too bad you don't enter too though. I mean it's open to anyone outside the pro circuit, and you would win easy."

"Too easy." Gau replied without looking to her, "Sabin says, most kids my age don't have my experience or abilities. It wouldn't be fair."

There was a far away look in Gau's eyes that Carina carefully noted. Not quite sure what to say next to fill the silence, she settled for a soft spoken, "That's too bad."

It was another short moment, before Gau turned back to her with a kind grin, offering, "Hey, if you want, I can help you with that move ya were workin' on. Maybe we can get it ta work in time fer thuh competition."

Looking back to him, a bit flustered, she stuttered back, "U-uh… Yeah, th-that'd be great." Sucking in a breath she muttered in after thought, "Perhaps we could go up Mount Kolts to train. I'll pack a lunch, and we can spar in the cool breeze, then lounge in the grass and just enjoy each other's company, and…"

"Uuooo?" The odd questioning sound that came from Gau was just a little bit of his strange language that people eventually begin to understand the longer they know him. Even if Carina didn't understand that though, the oblivious confusion on his face was enough to make her realize how she was sounding.

With a cough to clear her throat she corrected with feigned disinterest, "Or we could just train here." The boy blinked in thought as he stared at her unsure expression.

"Stop running, you cowards! It's just ten lashes now. But it'll be thirty if you keep running!" Sabin cried from outside as the boys stayed not so far ahead of him.

Between whimpers Alonso felt it necessary to yell out once more to his running partner, "This is all your fault!"

"Stop saying that!" Brock sharply retorted as he begged his legs to pump faster.


A couple hours later, after the dojo was cleaned and the teens had gone to their respective homes to clean up and change, they met up at their favorite café in South Figaro. Sitting around a glass top table under a red and white striped umbrella along the boulevard as traffic passed leisurely by, the warm wind of late spring swept gently along swaying the newly flowering young trees lining the road. It really was quite a nice spot. The teens chatted idly, as they lounged around, dressed for just that in their baggy street clothes. Carina opted for a more figure fitting green, palm leave print sundress, showing off a well defined young body, which gained a good deal of attention from passersby. However, the one she wanted to be looking was busy staring at his chocolate parfait. With a goofy grin on his face, Gau devoured the sweet dessert, getting a bit smeared on his face as he did. Carina giggled at his complete lack of table manners, handing him a paper napkin. "Careful Gau, you're making a mess."

As he took the napkin to quickly wipe his face, Brock added in, "Yeah, man, it's like dining with a four year old. Learn to use a spoon."

His face mostly clean save some scarce chocolate on his cheek, Gau gave a weak salute to Brock, offering in amusement, "Aye, Aye, matey." Brock groaned as he picked up on Gau's intent, once more subtly commenting on his swollen black eye Sabin had given him, which the others kept insisting looked like a pirate's eye patch. Slight sniggers rose from Carina and Alonso while Brock passed them each a threatening glare.

They turned away from his glare, still giggling, until Brock pointed out coldly, "I wouldn't be laughing if I were you… Skunk." In a quick gesture Brock snatched the fisherman's cap from Alonso's head revealing a vicious purple welt striping his bald head.

"Hey, cut it out!" Also croaked as he grabbed the hat back, and quickly returned it to his scalp. "This is so embarrassing. I hope it clears up before the tournament."

Letting her last snickers fade off, Carina looked pityingly to the boys, sympathizing in a somewhat patronizing manner, "Oh, you poor little babies, is the big scary teacher too mean to you?" Neither seemed very soothed by her words though, especially as she followed up accusingly with, "Come on, it's your own faults. You know how Master Sabin feels about your petty fights."

Brock rolled his eyes at the accusation, while Alonso pointed to him, stating firmly, "It's his fault."

Glaring at the younger boy, Brock hissed through gritted teeth, "I told you to stop saying that." Alonso just held out his tongue in response, until Brock rose up an arm to take a swing at him.

Before the punch could be thrown, Gau casually spoke up, "I don't see thuh problem. Sabin duzn't hurt ya guys too bad."

"What?!" They indignantly yelled back at him in unison, while he shoveled another spoonful of chocolaty goodness into his mouth.

Sucking the sweetness from the spoon, Gau just shrugged at them. Then depositing the utensil and dessert filled glass onto the table he sat back and pulled up his loose, white cotton t-shirt to reveal a series of bruises on his well sculpted and well scarred abdomen. Pointing out the blotches, he calmly explained, "He gave me these durin' training sessions, en I didn't even do nothin' wrong." The boys gaped at his brutally treated flesh, while Carina turned a blushing face from Gau's exposure.

Brock stuttered out nervously, "Th-the Master did that to you?" His eyes and mouth surprisingly widened even further as Gau nodded back. Of course, the wild boy was only thinking of the bruises, not the scars from his past on the Veldt.

An equally unnerved Alonso turned to Brock to whisper grimly, "We are lucky. Who knew the master was this kind of sadist?"

Brock turned from the table to speak secretly with his classmate, "Yeah, and Gau's even his favorite." Gulping back the sudden rising fear in his throat he mused worriedly, "What would he do if we really made him angry?" The boys shared a horrifying image of their master donning full leather bondage gear and brandishing a barbed cat-o-nine tails. While they trembled in mutual terror, Gau lowered his shirt back into place, the sound of the action letting Carina know she could tentatively look back to him.

Unfortunately not a moment after she did, he stood up and began to unbuckle his belt to lower his pants, pointing out, "End thuh other day out in thuh yard, he flipped me onta a hard rock, end I got a nasdy bruise on my…" He had turned around to display his wounded behind, while Carina stared on in shock, her face a burning crimson as his yellow trimmed green shorts began to lower, displaying all too much for her innocent eyes.

The thoughtless and shameless wild boy however had no clue why she suddenly turned her head and screamed out, "NO!!!" A quick shoving hand thrust out to collide with his bruised posterior. The sudden pain sent him toppling over his seat to land on top of the passing waiter. The cry of the server and the din of his clattering dishes to the stone of the patio acted as a call to all passersby. In the middle of the out door café, Gau lay atop an unfortunate older man, the boy's shorts lingering down around his ankles as the passing people stared and pointed, and a shamed and embarrassed Carina tried to cover her red face with her cupped hands.


The birds chirped lazily in the mid day on this mountain road. Small birds flitted around the humble, yet well kept yard of a simple cabin home enjoying the proffered seed from several hanging feeders in the trees and drinking from the four cut stone birdbaths placed about the gardened area. The cabin's walls were freshly painted and the flower beds in front were alive with lilies, peonies and assorted grasses. Sabin did like to keep his students busy, and working his yard built character or at least that's what he tells them. The wind is gentle today, though it's enough to shake the bamboo wind chimes on the porch. Their sounding though is not what suddenly alerts the birds. That is the approaching 'warking' cry of chocobos, pulling an ornamented carriage up the dirt road to this humble cottage. The driver, dressed in the green and red vestments of the Figaro army wore a silver helmet which extended down to mask his eyes and nose with the sculpted visage of a sneering brow and cut out sections with wolf like ears on the sides. All that was revealed of his face was a smooth skinned chin quite the converse to his grotesque mask He pulled the reins to halt the large yellow birds. After they stopped, giving a few aggravated 'warks' around the harnesses in their beaks, the soldier hopped down from his seat to open the carriage door for his passenger. Out stepped the famed king, Edgar Roni Figaro. The years really hadn't changed him much. Still dressed in his regal, if not a bit cheap for one of his stature, attire and holding the same air of arrogance about him as always, he stepped down from the carriage and breathed in a lungful of the fresh country air. "Ah… It's so nice to get away from the machinations for a change. Do you not agree, Lykopis?"

Nodding his helmeted head, the soldier, a bit taller, though slighter in stature to his liege, spoke in a soft voice with a rather forced gruffness, "Yes, my Liege."

Edgar smiled to the expressionless soldier, suggesting offhandedly, "Perhaps we could spend the day basking in the comfort of the simple life for a while. The sunset looks beautiful over these mountains."

Indifferently Lykopis replied, "As you wish, my Liege. However, we do have a ship to catch in a few hours. Another boat will not be leaving until tomorrow, and by then you will already be late for your meeting in Nikeah."

Sighing wearily, Edgar sourly replied, "That is true. I guess relaxation will have to wait for another day." Shrugging off his sorrow like it were the cloak on his back, Edgar jovially retorted, "I'll just have my quick little discussion and then we'll be off then, 'kay?"

Giving a polite bow, Lykopis stated plainly, "Yes, my Liege."

"Alright then…" As Lykopis straightened back up, Edgar began away from the carriage, heading for the stepping stone path leading around to the back of the cottage. Without stopping, he personably called back over his shoulder, "And for the hundredth some odd time… call me Edgar." Like always Lykopis gave no reply, and the young King continued his walk around the house, and into the equally well gardened backyard. The path he followed led to a fork, the left leading toward the back of the house and the right leading off into a forest path. In the clearing ahead, through the trees, Edgar could already see the reason for this visit. Sabin set there silently, beside a koi pond, with his back to the path, and apparently meditating. Quietly as he could, Edgar sneaked through the path and up around his seated brother. Staring for a second at his relaxed expression told Edgar that the man was in truly deep concentration. Not really wanting to disturb the martial artist's practices, the King resigned to plop down to a seat beside him. Staring at the fish in the pond, listening to the surrounding birds, he mused, "You know, this place really is nice."

"Sssnnnnnnoooooorrrrrrreeee…." The rising sound from his brother whose head lazily rolled to the side, called Edgar's attention. In his sleep the fighter mumbled incoherently, while his royal brother steamed in royal annoyance. Suddenly he landed a swift smack to Sabin's shoulder, knocking him back into consciousness. "Eh… huh… wha…?" Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Sabin took a deep breath and took a look around, to find his brother sitting beside him, looking kind of peeved. Grinning to him, Sabin greeted happily, "Hey Bro, what brings you here?"

Peering sideways to his burly sibling, Edgar replied elusively, "A carriage."

Rolling his eyes at his brother's literal response, Sabin specified, "For what reason?"

"Because it's faster than walking."

"Cute…" Sabin spoke dryly. "Seriously though, why are you here? You haven't come to visit me in almost half a year."

"Has it really been that long? Hmph…" A nostalgic look crossed his face, before musing in low tone, "Too long…"

"Well, at least you're here now, which brings me back to wondering… why-are-you-here?" Sabin firmly stated the question as he looked with idle interest to his brother.

Edgar gave a sigh, begrudgingly resigning himself to answer, "I was simply passing by your cottage on the way to the South Figaro port and decided to stop in." Sabin pressed his brother with an appraising stare, and Edgar admitted, "However, I do have an alterior reason for visiting." He hesitated for a moment under Sabin's not so surprised gazed, before sighing and explaining, "I'm going to Nikeah for a meeting on the Mobliz Treaty. New Vector is contesting for control again and…"

Sabin finished, "They're calling for a Duel to decide it."

"Exactly." Edgar dryly stated.

Staring into the sun's reflection in the pond, Sabin somberly questioned, "Is it just New Vector in the ring?"

The King's head shook. "No. Doma has also called for an entrance, should Mobliz go up for grabs, as well as Jidoor. There's even an independence organization in Mobliz asking for entrance." The martial artist gave a glance to his brother on the last note, yet the King preemptively answered, "There's no point in offering Mobliz independence at this point. They wouldn't have the funds to support themselves."

Sabin consented as he looked back to the fish in the pond. Offhandedly he enquired, "Have you heard anything from Terra on the subject? I mean this is her home."

"I'm afraid she's staying out of it, Bro. She doesn't want to instigate the situation by taking a side."

Rolling his eyes, Sabin commented in a huff, "Oh, come on. She could probably calm the whole situation easy. Everyone looks up to her. She's like a Saint. Heck, there were even those fanatics who use to pray outside her Orphanage."

A smirk came to Edgar's regal countenance as he recalled the questionably minded group. Chuckling discreetly he reminisced, "Oh man, those guys were hilarious." Shaking his head, he thought back on the scene from years back, when the group of pilgrims had journeyed to the ruins of Mobliz to be near the last of Esper blood in this world. They had dressed in robes of prayer and bowed before Terra's home; men, women and children, whole families, looking for something to follow came before what they saw as the most worthy idol these times had to offer. The young Figaro King was fortunate enough to be present with his friends the day they arrived. Recalling the first interactions, Edgar sat up to kneel beside his brother, acting out the part of the leader of the pilgrims, an old man by the name of Jansum Crier. In a pious tone, he spoke back the words of the Esper-praiser, "Dear Lady of the Light, please do not turn us away. We wish only to serve and honor you."

Sabin gave a booming laugh at his royal brother's precise acting. Taking a moment to steady him self out, the martial arts master did his best to mimic the shocked and confused expression Terra had shown that day, he tried to give an impression of her feminine voice, falling miserably, "What're you talking about."

Jansum, played by Edgar, announced proudly, "We have all seen your light, as you have streaked across the skies. You are the last of your glorious and grand kind in this world, and we prostrate ourselves before you. We are your children, please lead us to enlightenment." Edgar lay forward completely against his legs, face to the ground and arms outstretched before the "Goddess".

At this point during the actual event, the others were snickering in the background and trying hard not to laugh in front of these serious believers. Sabin played out Terra's reaction, nailing the awkward embarrassment and as his eyes scanned back and forth as if searching for the right words to say to make this all go away. Meekly he stuttered out, still nowhere near right on the voice, "Uh-uh… w-well, um… th-thank you all… for th-the consideration that is, but I'm not really…" Giving a cough to clear his voice as he recalled her doing, Sabin affirmed in a weakly steeled tone, "I'm not what you think I am. My Father was an Esper, yes, but my Mother was human, just like all of you. And besides, I'm… uh… only nineteen." Scratching the back of his head nervously as she'd done, offering a plastic smile, he nervously consoled, "I wouldn't know how to lead you, and I'm kind of busy with my own children to take you all in. I mean, most of you are a little old to be treated like kids." Back then, murmurs and whispers passed among the gathered worshippers, who were quickly beginning to think they'd made a gargantuan mistake.

Noticing the discouraged tone passing among his people, Jansum kept his faith looking back to their chosen deity to declare, as Edgar quoted, "I understand, my Goddess." Sabin looked relieved, until Edgar continued his part, "You need to test our faith, to be sure that we will not be easily swayed from your path."

The relief quickly shattered leaving a fretful frown, "What?"

As Edgar stood, he pretended to remove his phantom outer robe, letting it fall to the ground as he spoke, "I will prove myself my Lady. I have no fear of shame or judgment in your wondrous presence." Unfastening the clasp of his non present robe to lay himself bare before the young half-Esper woman, several gasps passed among the onlookers of memory, while the Returners of the day began to laugh aloud.

Innocent young Terra Branford desperately covered her virgin eyes and blushing face behind her clasped hands as the old man revealed his sagging, wrinkled, nude form without hesitation. Sabin, acting out the girl's part cried out through his clasped hands, "Please, please! SHOW SOME SHAME!!!" That was the straw that sent the thirty-one year old king tumbling forward in a laughing fit. Quickly his twin brother followed suit, rocking back to lie laughing on the ground. Their joyous cries echoed in the mountain forest, as the Brother's enjoyed the nostalgic comedy. Eventually, Sabin spoke up, "Man, I still can't believe he did that."

Sucking in a deep breath, of which he'd been depraved as he laughed, Edgar pointed out with a voice still shaken by amusement, "I can't believe they still made the guy Mayor of Mobliz."

Still snikering at the thought, as he pushed himself to sit back up, Sabin considered aloud, "Well, he did do a good job of getting Mobliz rebuilt with his 'followers', after he got his head straight about that whole Terra thing."

Smiling nostalgically, Edgar consented, "Yes, he did turn out to be a very resourceful and determined man, and they did a wonderful job of fixing up Terra's Orphanage. Heck it's still the pride of the town. The village really does raise those kids." Giving a nod, his smile slowly waned though as he pointed out, "However, the man is still rather rash." Glancing up to his brother, "He's the one leading the Independence Committee in Mobliz." Sabin didn't seem the surprised. Then Edgar added, "He asked Terra to fight for the cause."

That flattened the fighter's smile, as he stared back at his brother, taking in the statement, before speaking backhimself, "She said no though." Sure in that, even before Edgar nodded in confirmation, Sabin added, "Which means they'll be looking for fighters to represent them." Edgar simply gave another confirming nod. Sabin turned away, thinking over the situation as the light breeze combed through his crew cut. "Have they approached anyone yet?"

The King shrugged regretfully, admitting, "I don't know. But if the decision does bring on a tournament, you can be sure that they'll be bidding for the best they can find. And the money they waste will only hurt their Township further." Sabin gave a sigh to his brother's words, listening as Edgar continued, "I do understand how they feel. I mean the way that peninsula has been tug-of-warred back and forth, if I lived there I'd be yelling for independence too." Glancing up to Sabin, the King spoke almost pleadingly, "But they just aren't ready. What meager economy they have would crumble quickly, and then we'd be right back to the same power struggle all over again."

"I know." Sabin stated even before his brother finished his last sentence.

Knowing his Brother fully understood the situation, Edgar pointed out anyway, "I don't know what kind of tournament it would be or how many fighter's will be allowed from each bidder, or even if it will come about, which I hope it doesn't. Yet, should this fight come about, you would be…"

"I'll think about it." Sabin preemptively stated, already knowing the King of Figaro wished him to fight on the Nation's behalf.

"You'll… think about it?" Edgar repeated rather dourly.

Turning back to look at his Brother, Sabin finitely stated, "I'll think about it."

Giving a weary sigh, Edgar consented to his Brother's decision, "You know, for a muscle head you really do think a lot."

"For a King, you don't think quite enough." Sabin commented as he peered aside to his brother.

With mock indignation, Edgar replied in exasperation, "Now you question my right to lead. Why I'll have you know I am greatly beloved by my people. I've had three noble ladies offer their hands in marriage to me in the last year alone." Holding out three fingers to Sabin, the martial artist shrugged back disinterested.

"Well if number of Marriage proposals is what you base Royal decree upon, then the last letter I got from Terra said she had gotten fifteen proposals in the last month." Rolling his head to face Edgar, he mused, "By your logic, I guess she should be the official Queen of Mobliz anyway."

Edgar took a moment to think the statement over, giving a nod as he considered, "Your right, then so it shall be. I will go before the beauteous Lady Terra and offer myself to her in marriage, so that she may be my Queen. Together we shall bring forth prosperity, love and happiness to the people as we experience it ourselves."

Sabin only blinked back for a moment, before idly noting, "Or instead, she could keep her dignity." His Brother's deadly glare quickly came to rise, to which Sabin only chortled lightly.

"My Liege …" The gruffly serene voice called from the nearby path, where Lykopis stood bowing before the King and estranged Prince. "I am sorry to interrupt your conversation. However, we do not have much time to make the ship's departure."

Sabin raised a brow to the Soldier, neither Brother having noticed the masked figure's approach. Edgar however, replied completely familiar with the situation, "It is quite alright, Lykopis. Promise I'll be over shortly. May we have just one more moment?"

"As you wish, my Liege." Lykopis plainly stated and turned to walk back to the carriage.

As the uniformed body disappeared behind the trees, Sabin cocked his head aside, musing, "Well, even if I don't fight, you always have that guy. He's pretty damn strong."

Nodding surely, Edgar cited, "Undoubtedly, Lykopis is extremely reliable. I trust few people as greatly."

Narrowing his eyes on his Brother, Sabin admitted quietly, "Personally the guy really creeps me out. Never says anything except what's necessary, then he just glares you down whenever you aren't acting seriously." Picturing the image of the lean, yet imposing figure, Sabin gave a shiver. "Eesh… creepy…"

Letting out a bemused snicker, Edgar gave a considering nod, as he condoned, "It's true, Lykopis is rather hard to understand. However, that Soldier I will never question." Standing up, Edgar smiled down on his Brother, musing mildly, "I'll have to drop by again sometime soon."

"Anytime, Bro." Sabin happily reiterated, while retaking his cross-legged position. "Anytime."

Edgar gave a brief bow and began on his way back up the trail. He was only a few meters from his starting point when he stopped to turn back, and ask in final thought, "By the way, how's Gau coming along?"

Sabin didn't even bother to turn back, as he was already closing his eyes to resume his meditation, but answered matter-of-factly, "He's made a lot of progress."

"Really?" Edgar gave a thoughtful nod, cleft chin bobbing rhythmically, before asking further, "What of his requests to become a Duelist? Have you…?"

"That… he isn't ready for." Sabin once more cut in.

Edgar gave a submitting shrug, casting back, "Too bad. Once he is ready though, he's gonna make one hell of a showing. Maybe he'll even fight for Figaro."

Though the Martial Artist's posture remained straight and his eyes closed, Sabin's head rolled to the side, as he pointed out lazily, "Now you're getting shameless."

The King gave an undedicated laugh, as he philosophized to his Brother, "Heck, that's the thing about being a leader. Sometimes you have to be a bit shameless if you want everything to turn out alright." Turning around, he waved back over his shoulder, calling back, "See you around, Bro, hopefully only with good news to talk about." As he disappeared back up the trail, Sabin only nodded in return, eyes closed as he focused back into his meditation.


"So what the heck are we doing here, Brock?" Alonso asked in growing agitation as he, Carina and Gau followed the bulky youth through the front doors of the South Figaro Arena. This Saturday they'd be in this arena for the Third Annual Amateur Duelist Grand Tournament. But today the lobby was significantly packed even though no fights were scheduled for the afternoon. Looking around, the senior student's noticed that most seemed to be reporters and photographers while the rest were the average gathering of Duelist fans. Various conversations played among the crowd, causing a confusing and inaudible din as everyone tried to talk over each other.

Glancing back at his peers, Brock asked in obvious frustration, "Yer telling me you guys didn't hear about this today?"

Arching a thin brow, Carina inquired, "Hear about what?"

Letting out a groan, Brock was about to answer, but before he did, the room began to quiet. Looking toward the stage set up to the side of the lobby, as everyone else did, they watched as from a side door, a group, led by a stocky, bald, middle-aged man in a lavish red and orange robe, entered toward the stage. He is Baron Volga, the owner of this Arena, a former Coliseum champion and trainer for many young fighters. He's even been known to climb back in the ring himself from time to time. Behind him follows a couple of stripe robed officials of the Arena and one young fighter, wearing black armoring down his arms and legs, and leaving his chest bare to reveal a toned build, etched by tribal tattoos. As he makes his way last up on to the stage he smirks confidently to the audience, his long black pony-tail tossed back as he turns his youthful face to look out upon the sea of already questioning reporters and flashing picture boxes. Across the way Brock sneers at the man, hissing out, "Uqba is giving a press conference."

The reporters jockeyed for questioning position, as they called out their inquiries about the young fighter's career; asking of his strategy for the upcoming tournament, his plans for future matches, and one man even wanted to know what "lucky girl" the Junior Champion was seeing. None of them were answered though, as the robed figure of Baron Volga stepped up before the podium, set with four microphones from the local radio stations, holding out his hands in calming as he commanded firmly, "Please, please, everyone quiet down. Quiet down." As the swell of questioning began to subside, the Baron assured, "We'll answer all of your questions before the session is over. Firstly though, the Mighty Uqba has an announcement for you all." Turning to his protégé in question the dark-skinned, pony-tailed young fighter, strutted confidently up to the podium receiving a proud pat to his armored upper arm as the Baron moved aside. Save for a few photo flashes and some whispered chatter among the press members, the room remained calm.

Though one veteran reporter did speak up from the front row, "Roland Nielson, Gaia Chronicles, so what's this about Uqba? Just wanted to flex for the press, or do you actually have something important for us to hear today?" That passed a few murmurs around the crowd, as the Baron was known for calling out the press just whenever he wanted to hike ticket sales with one of his fighter's feats of prowess.

Giving a low chortle at the comment, Uqba seemed rather amused by the accusation. Shaking his head firmly, he held his head high as he called down, "Mr. Nielson, I assure you, this is something worth hearing." The war-seasoned reporter simply returned a questioningly raised brow before Uqba continued, "As you all know, in a couple of days I'll be taking part in the Third Annual Amateur Tournament here in the Figaro Arena, and just as last year, I plan to conquer it. That's no big surprise." Brock tensed furiously at the other man's arrogance. "After all, I've pretty much ruled the Figaro Junior league for the last year, and even in the international leagues I've participated in, I've always come out on top." Letting out a weary sigh, he mused to the gathered listeners, "Frankly, I'm getting tired of all these fights that I know I can win." A growl rose from Brock, gaining Gau's attention. "The Amateur League holds no more challenge for me. So after I win this year's Grand Tournament, I'm moving up to join the Professional fighting ranks!" The crowd quickly began their questioning over each other again, while Uqba paid them little mind. Holding up his armored hand and balling it into a tight fist he stated definitely, "It's time this metal felt blood in the ring." Photo flashes snapped off in rapid succession as the young Champion held his pose and the reporters called out their unanswered questions. Brock was barely restraining a growl, as his body tensed in frustration. Beside him his friends looked on a bit unnerved, save for Gau, whose attention was quickly on Uqba. Aftering hearing his declaration to enter the Professional ranks, the wild boy's appraising eye became clearly set on him in curiosity. The dark-haired fighter gladly flexed his sculptured muscles for the audience, showing he surely had the crowd appeal to be a mainstream duelist. It was his fighting abilities that Gau was more interested in though.

"I'M GONNA KICK YOUR SORRY ASS!!!" The yelled statement rose over the crowd from the back of the room, calling everyone's attention, including the perusing Gau and an only mildly aggravated Uqba. Standing before his surprised friends, the burly form of Brock glared at Uqba, fists held down at his sides, as his face strained in a vicious sneer.

Curious whispers passed among the crowd, while Uqba just sighed in annoyance, asking disinterestedly, "And you are…?" Alonso stepped discretely aside, while Carina turned away, averting her eyes, hoping no one would notice they were with him. Gau, on the other hand, could only blink thoughtlessly as he watched his friend's outburst.

Proudly, the young fighter answered back, "I am Brock, of the Blitz Fist school of Martial arts." The name of the school instantly earned a reaction from the crowd, as everyone was familiar with the school of the Champion fighter Sabin. Uqba however seemed rather disinterested. Raising a finely groomed brow in questioning of the statement, it took a moment before a look of realization graced his countenance.

"Oh right… I remember you now." Attention turned back to Uqba, awaiting his answer. "You're that disgrace that I pummeled in the semi finals last year. I recall that match took… what was it? Twenty seconds?" Brock visibly strained as a few snickers passed among the reporters. Another flash of remembrance flashed across the amateur champ's face as he added, "And I think I fought you a few months ago in a scheduled match too. Though I must admit as I recall you did much better in that fight. I think you stayed on your feet for a whole minute. Several of the reports began to laugh a bit louder. Apparently they had caught that fight as well.

Growling at the mockery, Brock yelled out again, "Shut it, Jerk Wad! I might have lost to you in the past, but this time I am going to beat you! I'll show you why I'm Master Sabin's top student!"

"His top student, you say?" Uqba considered the statement for a moment, retorting, "I always respected the man as an amazing fighter, but apparently he isn't much of a teacher."

Very few audience members dared to snicker at that insult, and Brock was quick to spit back vehemently, "How dare you insult my Master, you Gutter trash!"

Alonso also dropped his shame to hop forth beside his comrade, holding out a fist to reiterate, "Yeah you stinking creep, why don't you come down here and say that?!"

Uqba simply chuckled at the duo, blatantly unimpressed by their threats. Reining in his laughter with a long breath and relenting sigh, he offered arrogantly, "Now, now, I don't believe a King should have to leave his mountain to deal with insolent peons down below. If you want to start something, then climb your sorry asses up here and bring it!" Stern faced and standing in a challenging pose, he awaited the reply.

It came instantly. "You got it!" Brock rushed forward shocking friends and strangers alike as he tried to blaze a path through the jungle of reporters in his way. Most hurried out of the rampaging youths way, while security guards moved in to block his progress. With trained ease, the blue suited guards were flipped, dodged and shoved aside by Sabin's eldest student. As he closed in on the imposing form of Uqba, who glared down upon him from the edge of the stage, the other Blitz students tensed in worry.

"That stupid hothead, he's gonna get arrested!" Alonso grumbled through clenched teeth. Beside him Carina looked to Gau to ask him to do something, and gaped at the empty spot beside her, as he was already gone. Quickly perusing the crowd, she barely caught a glimpse of his nimble figure weaving around the side of the crowd, his feline form easily progressing to the front.

Uqba let a chortle rise in his throat as Brock made the last five yard dash. The pony-tailed warrior's fist discreetly clenched in ready as his forward stance held ready. With amazing power, Brock leapt to the air, flipping his body forward in propulsion more then ten feet in the air, His right foot lashed forth, aimed squarely at Uqba's grinning face. However, it never made it further than Gau's forearm. Brock flinched in surprise as his schoolmate blocked him from the armored youth. Easily righting himself to land on a crouch before the stage, he looked up to Gau's stern red eyes. He also had just regained his footing and was pulling one hand from behind his back before hopping down from the stage. Glaring at him, Brock insisted, "What're ya getting in my way for?! He insulted me and Master Sabin!"

Looking down at the older boy with almost uncharacteristic clarity, Gau spoke, "Yer insulting thuh Master too." Brock was aghast at the accusation as he sprung to his feet. "thuh Blitz Fist School duz teach power. But is meant ta be power with control. If you show no control, yer disrespecting the whole school." Brock's expression softened slowly in understanding. Silently he looked over Gau's head to the glaring face of Uqba, and turned away in tired aggravation. Storming off back through the crowd, Gau followed after them, while several of the reporters fired off questions to the passing Brock about the apparent rivalry and a few others made open comments about the unknown blond boy's gutsy act to get between them and how lucky he was that he didn't find Uqba's steely fist through his gut. The dark haired, dark skinned, dark armored and currently dark expression bearing, fighter on stage seemed less skeptical as he stared angrily after the back of the smaller, wild haired boy, recalling the recent event. Uqba's armored fist was cocked and ready to meet the loudmouthed Brock's weaker foot and crush it. The mane of greenish blonde hair which then blocked his vision seemed to come from nowhere it was so fast, and before he could even complete his punch, Uqba's mighty fist was stopped, by a hand idly drawn up behind the blond's back to catch it. Watching them leave, and having never even saw the interloper's face, Uqba was seriously doubting Brock's claim as Sabin's top student.


"That Creep!" Brock swore as he kicked an errant aluminum can out of the way with unnecessary force. "I'm going to beat him at the tournament! You guys just wait and see."

"Sure, man… whatever you say…" Alonso tiredly humored his aggravated friend while adjusting the cap on his lowered bald head.

Brock stopped and glared back as Alonso casually strolled by. With a growl which echoed in the back alley they passed through, Brock suddenly pounced the younger boy from behind catching him by surprise in a headlock, while protesting, "Don't say it like that, ya jerk! I'm gonna beat your sorry ass at that competition too!" Brock laid in with a fury of noogies to which Alonso groaned in annoyance of.

Twisting his body and slipping his head free of his senior's gripping arm, Alonso landed a disciplining slap to the back of Brock's neck before straightening up to regain his cool façade. "As if you could beat me, ya worthless muscle head."

Staring to Brock's still back, it was a moment before the burly boy looked grimly back over his shoulder and announced deathly serious, "It's better to be a muscle head… than a skunk head." Sticking out his tongue to Alonso, Brock waved the smaller boys cap in the air, quickly alerting him to the fact that his stripe bruised scalp was in view.

"Hey…! Give it back!" Alonso rushed to grab it, and Brock was already on the run playing keep away.

A ways behind them Carina and Gau lazily followed. The former shook her head woefully at the sight of the goofing off, chastising them from a far, "Can't you guys at least show some maturity?" Sighing heavily, she suggested to her self, "I need to get new friends." Strolling along, with her head hung, she looked to the shadows on the ground trailing before them, and noticed one strangely still and straight. Glancing back she found Gau in the same oddly pensive silence he'd been in since they left the Arena. Knitting her fine brows in thought, she asked him in probing, "You've been really quiet. Is something wrong?" Still walking on, his hands in his pockets, Gau simply looked up to her and gave an assuring nod. There was no emotion to his usually expressive face though. Worried, she persisted, "Are you sure. Ever since you stopped Brock back there you've been acting… strange. Are you mad at him?"

Shaking his head finitely, he assured, "No, he was just… angry." Carina seemed to accept the answer, or at least she couldn't think of anything else to say. So they followed along after their friends. It was a long moment before Gau broke the silence again. It was in a low voice so that only Carina would hear him ask, "Is Ugba really strong nuff ta be in thuh pros?

Looking back to him, Carina blinked thoughtfully, wondering why he'd come up with such a question. Shrugging she answered honestly as she could, "Uqba may be a self-centered jerk, but… yeah… he's pretty tough. I fought him once before in a preliminary for last years annuals, remember? He beat me pretty easy." Her voice trailed off with regret, for a moment before picking back up with interest, "Why do you ask.?"

Gau cocked his head in that feline way of his, and he spoke back vaguely, "It's just… sumthin' I wanna know."


"Hot-headed little brats." The Baron grumbled, as his stout figure entered into the private sitting room. "Shameful, the way they interrupted the press conference." He plopped onto a leather couch as one of the maids brought over a glass of scotch for him. He offered her a customary, "Thank you." Then turning back to his Coliseum manager, head promoter and star talent, the Baron added off-hand, "Of course, all that hype will probably bring up ticket sales. Not as much as if a stronger opponent had given the challenge, but we can't really help that right now."

Thadius Ringlet, head promoter of the South Figaro Arena, a short, slender man, ever in a fine suit and over sized black horn rim glasses, gave an amused smirk, hypothesizing aloud, "If we had gotten the challenge a few weeks ago, we could have rigged his last few matches, made him look like a monster competitor." Shaking his head in disappointment, he relented, "It would've been a great show."

"You mean a great charade." The dark-skinned young warrior scoffed as he stared out the panel window to the arena floor below. "The moment I got in the ring with him-" Turning his head back, he emphasized, "-and that is if he actually made it up to me. I would make short work of him, then people would just want their money back." He could practically sense Ringlet's mouth open to make a comment. "And no, I would never hold back just to make him look good."

"Heh. An honorable warrior…? What're ya gonna do?" Volga gave a sigh as the maid refilled his glass. "It's really too bad though. You're spotless amateur career is coming to an end. It would have been nice for you to have some kind of worthwhile send off." Taking a quick sip of his scotch, he licked his lips and looked up to find Uqba staring back at him. "What? It's your own fault insisting on moving up all of a sudden."

"The boy out there- Who was he?" The serious tone of the fighter caught the Baron's attention.

"You mean that Brock kid? You said you remembered him."

"No, not him." Uqba shook his head as he turned round to speak directly with Volga. "The other one, the one who got between us- Who is he?" Volga just stared back silently for a moment. Only breaking their gaze to finish off his drink and hand the empty glass off to the maid.

Gradually he looked back to Uqba to break the prolonged silence, "Why do you want to know that?"

Tilting his head askew, he cited plainly, "I can believe that these idiots missed it." He fingered toward the manager and promoter and continued, "But there's no way you didn't see it. He blocked my punch. He wasn't even looking at me, and he only used one hand, and he blocked My Punch." The last two words were punctuated in stern disbelief. "So, who is he, and why have I never seen him before? He seems to be one of Sabin's students, and he looked young enough to be fighting in the junior classes."

Sighing deeply, Volga assured the boy, "You're right. He's never participated before."

Once more the young man demanded, "You know who he is?"

Shrugging the Baron answered, "I know of him. Yes. But what does it matter?"

"I want to fight him."

Even though he knew the declaration was coming, the Baron groaned, "Why would you want to fight a no name rookie, just because he caught a lucky block?"

"Bull! That was not luck and you know it." Uqba argued back angrily, "Now, tell me who he is. Tell me!" He demanded fiercely and even the manager and promoter looked to Volga in curiosity.

Looking among the waiting faces, Volga resigned with a nod. He took no hurry in relaxing back into his seat and draining another sip of his expensive liquor before speaking, "Back during the war against Kefka, you know about the heroes of the Returners, right?" Only a slight pause was offered for the rhetorical, as he went on, "You know, the major players, Terra Bradford, the Figaro Brothers, Locke and Celes, Setzer and old man Strago. But some members of that group were never really talked about after the war. Like there was an assassin and a moogle. I even heard they had a yeti fighting with them." With a snicker, he shook his head as he mused on the heroes of their world. Meanwhile, Uqba moved to a seat across the coffee table from the Baron to listen. Looking to the boy, he spoke on more seriously, "There were also a couple of kids. One was that artist girl, Relm. Heck, who doesn't know her nowadays? But the other… well…- He was a boy barely into his teens, who was supposedly tough enough to go toe-to-toe with Sabin himself." The room was silent as the path of the Baron's tales became clear. "They were said to have found him living out on the Veldt. He was raised by monsters and fought with ferocious instinct. In combat, he would go into a kind of enraged trance, and he'd tear through his enemies with his bare hands. He fought with them all the way to the end, to the defeat of Kefka himself." Relaxing with an exaggerated breath, the Baron finished the tale somberly, "After the war, he took up as Sabin's student. I have approached him before about bringing the kid into the fighting world, but Sabin always refused. In other words, he's not fighting, so get over it."

The room was still, as the listeners processed this new information. Volga gestured to the maid for another drink, and she was just bringing over the glass and bottle when Uqba spoke up once more. "It has to be him." Volga just shot him a glare, as the boy went on, "If he's really so strong, then he's the only one I can test myself against before going into the professional world. You have to get me this match!"

Shaking his bald head, Volga tried reasoning, "Why? You've proven yourself plenty over the years. You're ready, and you're going to have a great professional career. Don't get stuck up on something stupid like this."

"No! I have to know." He insisted as he pounded an iron clad hand to the marble top of the table. "You held me back a year from debuting in the pro world, to make sure I was tough enough and to ensure a huge draw when I crossed over. And through it all, I never had one challenge. I just faced one weak competitor after another, and now that a real challenge has appeared, I want to take it!"

"What challenge?" Volga bit back at the young fighter, "The only challenge was from that loud-mouth who tried to attack you. Did Gau threaten you? Did he even look at you? Don't go fantasizing some great rivalry over some brat that you've never even seen face to face."

"I never said anything about a rivalry! I just want to fight him!"

"And what if you lose?" The words came like a live grenade tossed into the room. Every eye turned to Volga in shock of the prospect. "Think it over. This kid was fighting in the war for the world while you were still getting beaten on by the bigger kids in my gym. The reputation you've built here could go to hell in an instant if you make this challenge and lose."

"Then I won't lose." Uqba stared back at his master; fire burning in his dark eyes.

Volga gave a wearied sigh as he set down his glass without taking a sip and lounged back to avoid the boy's steeled gaze. "You know…" Ringlet's sharp voice butted into the Baron's pensive moment. "Advertising a brawl between the Wild Child of the Returners and our boy Uqba, would shoot up ticket sales." The Baron just sighed deeper at the words and closed his eyes to think.


"What's wrong with you?" Master Sabin peered across the table to his pupil. Gau glanced up from the knot in the wooden top of the table that he'd been staring at for the last ten minutes. "You've barely touched your stew. I've never known you to let food get cold." The blond man stared curiously to the boy that he'd raised for several years and still barely understood.

The former wild boy just gave a meek shrug as he lifted his spoon that had been left to soak in broth. Stirring the bowl's contents idly, he responded with surprising opposition, "You've been quiet too. Ya usually talk through thuh entire meal." His gruffly accented voice held a pitch of curiosity as he looked to his master.

Sabin gave a relenting chortle for his student's attention. Nodding in agreement, he reminisced casually, "Yeah, yeah. Edgar payed me a visit early today." Gau cocked his head at word of the esteemed King and former ally. "He sends his regards." The brief comment was punctuated as Sabin lifted his bowl to sip some broth.

Gau waited patiently for further information, as his master savored his food. After a long moment, he finally pondered aloud, "And…?"

"Hm?" Looking back to the boy, Sabin shook his head assuring, "Nothing. He just dropped by on his way to catch a boat to Nikeah." Gau peered appraisingly back, suspicious of something more which would silence his typically loud-mouthed master. Feeling the predatory eyes on him, Sabin spoke finally, "He talked about some political affairs that I was thinking over. That's all. It's nothing for you to worry about, kid." From the corner of his eye Sabin saw Gau give a quick nod and return to eating. He always accepted his master's words at face value, and this was no exception. Still not satisfied with his student's strange behavior though, Sabin continued, "Now, what's your excuse?"

Quirking one brow and chewing the inner side of his lip, Gau looked back unsurely. Reaching up to scratch his head of untamed hair, he answered evasively, "I went to thuh Arena with thuh others today."

That caught Sabin's attention. Peering back at his student, he probed, "What for? There aren't any matches until tonight."

"Well…" He searched for the right words, unsure if he could find them with his limited vocabulary. "Brock wanted ta go."

"What for?"

Gau gave a shrug of feigned disinterest as he replied, "There was a confrance thing."

"What was it about?" Sabin listened raptly for what had his student acting so strange.

"It was that Uqba guy." Gau risked a glance to the crew cut man's eyes to note any recognition, and continued, "He said that he was … moving up … to thuh pros."

"Oh." Beginning to understand the same old argument approaching, Sabin returned his attention to his stew.

"Master…?" Unfortunately, now that he had started, Gau wasn't quite finished. "Is he really strong 'nuff? Uqba I mean."

Letting out a long sigh as he rolled his eyes in though, Sabin finally gave a half nod, consenting, "Hard to say. The kid's pretty tough. Strong build. Great instincts. But nobody's really seen his true potential. Nobody but his trainers and maybe some choice sparring partners." Gau looked to Sabin quizzically, and the teacher needed no further excuse to educate. "In the Junior classes, there are a lot of safety restrictions to prevent serious injury. You can't use real bladed or heavy bludgeoning weapons, unless you are in one of the specific venues, like the bushido leagues. Offensive spell casting can only be used in specific leagues and competitions. Even Ki-based assaults, such as our school's Aura Bolt or Fire dance are banned. So specialist fighters generally have to come up through specialized junior leagues, which are very competitive or underground leagues which are extremely dangerous. The South Figaro Fighter League is purely hand-to-hand combat, so Uqba's never used those metal gauntlets of his in the ring, and he's never shown any of the Ki attacks, which I'm sure Volga has taught him. In other words, I can't be sure of his strength. But if Volga says he's ready. I'm sure he is. Old man knows what he's doing." Gau seemed to comprehend, and Sabin spooned a bit of steaming potato and broth to his mouth to blow on. As he took the food into his mouth, he almost choked as the next question came.

"Is he stronger than me?" The teenager watched his mentor clear his throat, chew his food and take his time to swallow before answering.

"I don't know. It's possible. But it doesn't really matter." Gau's head cocked to one side for the explanation, "Strength isn't your problem. You are tough enough to go into the fighting world. Not strong enough to be a champion yet, but you could be a contender." The boy grinned at the approval, but knew what was coming, "I still worry about your control though. You've come a long way from your old rage. I don't want to see that all go to hell because you start picking fights that you aren't ready for."

"I know. I know." Gau relented somberly, and they returned to their meals. In bored silence they ate. Until Gau decided to inquire, "Master, will Alonso's skunk-stripe heal before Sadurday?"


The next morning, Sabin's third class was assembled for session. The dojo taught three classes, two days a week each. class one met Sunday and Wednesday, class two met Monday and Thursday and class three met Tuesday and Friday. Class three was mostly kids, nine of the fifty of which were age seven to thirteen, so these were much easier training days in general. Except when the kids decided to act up. Currently the children had been standing in squatted positions with outstretched arms, as they had been doing for the last five minutes. The older kids were even made to hold buckets of water, just to even it out. Sabin meanwhile paced before his students, glaring at the young students accusingly, as he offered with all the kindness of a tormenting interrogator, "You're all doing very well today. I knew you could follow through with my Super Iron Man Training. And we're going to keep at it until someone confesses for putting ink in my dumplings!" his lips parted in a feral stare down. The unnaturally blackened teeth of their master had a few of the boys and girls snickering regardless of the shivering and sweating tired bodies. "Do I have to add more water to those buckets? Or maybe some of you young'uns need buckets as well." Sabin barked at them, and the snickering stopped except for one. Glancing back over his shoulder he found Gau quickly quieting and averting his gaze from Sabin, while kneeling to check on the condition of one of the smaller boys. Looking back among the punished children, the blond instructor spoke in assurance, "Don't worry, we have hours to work and plenty of water to go around." Groans and whines passed among the children, who feared a worse fate for insubordination.

"Gau! Gau!" The call from outside was followed seconds later by the familiar face of Carina, as she ran in waving a newspaper at the boy. "I can't believe it." She stopped before him, breathing a bit heavy from a long jog. "Are you really going to…?"

"What are you doing here?" Sabin demanded of her. "I told you and your idiot classmates to take the day off to rest for the tournament."

Nodding as she caught her breath, the replied, "I know. It's just …" Catching sight of the burdened children, she was sidetracked to ask, "What are you doing to these kids?"

"Training." Sabin answered concretely." Now what are you doing here?"

Carina shook her head of the disturbing images around her and focused on the reason for her visit. Holding up the Newspaper she had brought, she showed the headline to Sabin and Gau, explaining, "When I read it, I just had to come see if it was true." Both leaned in to read, before Sabin grabbed the paper away to read further.

"The Iron Fist set to fight the Wild Child"

Jaw clenched and eyes in a heavy stone glare, Sabin read off the article, "This reporter was witness to the spectacle, as the young Returner Hero, Gau rose from the crowd to oppose the fist of Uqba. In a flash of martial prowess, the Wild Child was able to put himself between his own classmate and the Iron Fist, nullifying both attacks with ease. Though he was not identified by the reporters present, we at the Gaia Chronicles were alerted of Gau's identity, along with the exclusive notification of Uqba's intent to challenge Gau to compete in this Saturday's tournament. The Junior Figaro Fighter League Champion was quoted as proclaiming, "After hearing of whom that boy was I knew that it was destiny that I meet him here and now. He will be my last great challenge before I ascend to the professional world"." Looking up from the article to his first student, Gau just stared back wide-eyed at his stern master. "You better have a good explanation for this."

"I-I swear, I didn't do nuthin." Gau tried to explain himself, regardless of double negatives.

"Really, Master, it was Brock that rushed the stage." Carina backed him up, "Gau was just trying to keep him from getting the school in trouble by starting a public fight."

"Yeah, I didn't even say nuthin' to Uqba."

Looking between his students appraisingly, Sabin relented with a haggard groan, "You kids shouldn't have been there to begin with. You were just inciting them. Do I teach you to go around antagonizing people?"

"No, master." Gau and Carina answered in practiced unison.

"Me and Brock are going to have to have a little talk about his behavior."

"Try not to be too hard on the boy." The tenor voice came from the doorway, where now stood the red robed figure of Baron Volga. Adjusting his glasses, he noted begrudgingly, "After all, Uqba did a good deal of the antagonizing."

"You have a lot of guts coming here after this." Sabin deemed, as he waved the paper at the Baron. "I've told you before that Gau wasn't joining the league. Did you think this would really get us to accept?" The younger martial master stared to the older man who rested against his doorway.

Volga shook his head woefully and tried to calm the younger man, "This all a misunderstanding, Master Figaro. May we please speak, and I'll try to explain?"

Sabin stared back at the stout man firmly. Taking a moment to think it over, he finally turned to his students and ordered, "You're in luck. You've all just earned a reprieve. Class dismissed." The children practically dropped their buckets along with the rest of their bodies, as they all cast off their water weights and went about rubbing their sore parts. "Gau, see to the kids." Exiting the dojo, Sabin gestured for the Baron to follow. "Come. We'll speak in the house."

As the masters departed, Volga's one question could be heard, "What happened to your teeth?"

Meanwhile, Gau and Carina saw to the aching, groaning children. Sorrowfully, she rubbed the exhausted muscles of one of the eight year olds legs, as she pondered aloud, "Does he really have to be so hard even on children."

Sniffling back some tears, the boy in her care agreed, "Yeah, Master Sabin's a big jerk!"

"It's your own fault for putting in the ink in his food." Gau cited plainly.

"I did not." The boy tried to deny, but Gau's exceptional nose was already sniffing at the air and quickly zeroed in on the boy. Grabbing one of his hands, he turned it over to reveal tell-tale black smudges. The other children glared at him, and he hurried to confess, "My Brother made me do it." He pointed to his older brother, who stared back dumbly over his buckets, just before receiving a punch to his sore arm by one of his classmates.

"Oww!" "Jerks!" "You Creeps!" "This is all your fault!" "My body hurts all over." "I want Mommy!"

"Enough already!" Carina quieted them quickly as she went back to caring for the fatigued. "We'll have to borrow Master Sabin's wagon to get them home. I don't think some of them can make the walk."

Gau just nodded in agreement as he rubbed the pains from one younger boy's legs. He had that faraway look in his eyes again though, and Carina wasn't really sure about calling him on it. So, she remained silent. One of the older boys though, gladly spoke up. "Hey, Gau, are you really going to fight Uqba?"

"Yeah, are you?" "That would be so cool!" "Gau would kick his butt for sure." "Nah, Uqba's the champ. He's strong." "Gau's stronger." "Yeah, he would so win!" "Right, Gau?" "Right?"

"From every side, the kids were calling their opinions to him, and like a curious crow his head bobbed back and forth, but he didn't answer.


"It was Uqba's doing." Volga admitted to Sabin, who poured the older fighter a cup of tea. "After Gau got in his way, the boy was instantly obsessed. He gets like that some times. It's a bad habit for a teacher to have to deal with." Volga took the offered cup gratefully. "Thank you."

Sabin poured his own tea, agreeing idly, "I know what you mean. It was my student's misbehavior which started this mess after all."

Volga sighed as he swirled his cup to stir the contents. "The arrogant drive of youth; it is a good thing for a fighter some times. I just wish the boy would think once in a while. The little brat went right to the press with his challenge, right after I told him to drop it. Guess he figured that the public berating would be too much to ignore."

"What berating? It only said he wanted to fight Gau." Sabin inquired as the Baron sipped his tea.

Volga simply asked back, "Did you read the whole article?"

Quickly retrieving the paper from nearby on the floor, Sabin skimmed to the end, reading aloud, "The Champion went on to criticize the Blitz Fist School and its students. Citing that never have any one of them held a title or even offered him an even fight. Gloatingly he offered, "I thought this would be a great chance for them to redeem themselves with their best product"." Staring to the Baron in a huff, the younger admonished truthfully, "He is quite the jackass."

"I know. He can be a real pain." Volga lifted his cup, but stopped to reconsider idly, "He goes over pretty big with kids though. Go figure." Enjoying a sip of the green tea, Volga let out a satisfied breath, then turned his eyes back to Sabin, "Anyway, when I read the paper, I knew you wouldn't take it well, so I hurried over to explain."

"Thank you for your concern, Baron. I know that you are an honest man. Even though your student is a self-centered little creep."

Volga shrugged in consolation. He couldn't argue the fact, but he did try to amend his statement. "True, but I apologize for him, if that means anything. I'm also going to have to apologize for my next words." Volga set down his cup and straightened in his seat to speak clearly, "Master Figaro, I ask you now to reconsider Gau's entrance." Sabin just raised a brow as he stared back with typical stoic expression. The Baron, tried to plead his case. "Since that headline ran this morning, ticket sales have shot up immediately. Fans are almost as anxious to see this one Junior level fight as a Professional championship match. If Gau doesn't show up, there will be a lot of very angry spectators."

"That isn't our problem, Baron."

"I know it isn't, but this is something you should think over." Volga advised as he hunched forward. "Think of the reputation of your gym if you refuse this challenge. It would seem a cowardly act, and bad press will come quickly. Shrugging off a challenge from the Junior Champion himself might even be misconstrued as scoffing the entire Figaro Fighter League. Your students may find themselves being denied matches in the near future. Circuit scouts may snub them."

"We'll have to take that chance." Sabin firmly accepted as he picked up his tea cup. "If one simple act will bring such harm, then that is simply unfortunate."

Volga watched the younger fighter sip his tea calmly, and nodded in understanding. "You will do as you must. I hope things turn out alright for you in the end." They sat and drank their tea. No more words to waste, they just relaxed in this midday break.

Footsteps led in from the patio, where Gau strolled in to take a seat near by, addressing the older men, "Carina left with thuh kids; took yer cart and chocobo ta bring dem home. She'll bring it back later."

Sabin nodded back, "Alright. You can take a break too."

"Yes, Master." Gau sat pensively for the moment, chewing his lip. Obviously he was pre-occupied.

"Yes, Gau?" Sabing asked, already knowing what was on the boy's mind.

Bowing, he declared predictably, "Master, I wanna accept thuh challenge." Volga glanced from student to teacher. Sabin just took a deep breath.

After a brief pause, Sabin spoke, "I've told you before that you're not ready."

"I know, but … I herd what ya two were saying bout thuh trubbles refusin' could bring thuh gym." He admitted and Sabin did not seem surprised; well aware of the boy's acute ears. He didn't even bother to acknowledge the reason with a response, since he knew Gau had already heard his answer to the Baron. But Gau continued, "Besides. Master … I wanna prove I'm ready." Sabin turned a steely gaze to the boy, who remained bowing obediently. Humbly he pleaded, "Uqba is goin' inta thuh pros, and you said Volga wouldn't led him do it if he wasn't ready. But he's still in juniors. If I can fight him and keep control, then it proves I'm ready. Or ad least I'm close."

Volga gave a short chortle, commenting from aside, "The boy is determined. What do you say, Master Figaro?"

"Please, Master. Please." Gau begged to his Master, who silently sat, sipping his tea as he thought things over.


"What the hell is this?!" Brock exclaimed as he read the article.

"It's a newspaper." Alonso replied in smart-ass tone. "It has words printed on it describing current events. Do you need me to read it to you?"

"Shut up!" The older larger youth shouted, and the bald boy followed command quickly as he noted his friend's anger. "I can't believe this." He settled against the alley wall, reading over the story. "I make a scene. I challenge Uqba, and Gau gets written about? What the hell is this?!"

Alonso offered in consolation, "They mention you."

"Oh yeah- " Brock began reading from the article, "Gau courageously leapt in to save his classmate, Brook, from Uqba's mighty fist." With a growl, Brock tore the paper in two, crumpling the ends in his fists. "They didn't even get my name right! And I didn't need saving. Uqba was the one going down!"

"Yeah... right." Alonso sarcastically spoke out of habit. As Brock glared daggers at him, practically breathing steam, Alonso gulped in response and tried to amend, "I mean, of course you had him beat. No challenge." Little comforted by the forced assurance; Brock tossed the torn paper aside and stomped off down the alley. Alonso shook his capped head in worry, "I don't see this turning out well."


Uqba sat staring out the observation window of the Owner's suite, watching the Arena's Friday afternoon bouts as he dictated a message to a steward on hand, "If he does not face me then it only proves that my statements about their school were true. Sabin's students are simply too weak to compete." Grinning to the man who took the note down, Uqba ordered, "Have that delivered to the station immediately. I want it broadcast as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir." The steward gave a bow ready to follow through, before ordered otherwise.

"Don't bother." Volga called out as he strolled in to his suite. "There's no more reason to antagonize. You already got your way."

The dusk skinned fighter sat up anxiously. "You mean …?"

"Yeah, brat." Volga looked in his disciple's eyes as he answered, "Gau has agreed to fight. Tomorrow, you get what you asked for." Turning to walk away, he added in after though, "I just wonder if it will really be what you want."