Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own anything to do with Final Fantasy 8.. I own the game in general as in playing it.. ::sigh:: but none of the characters or the squaresoft/square-enix and yea they own all that stuff...

(4 years ago)

A small young Zell is awoken by the ringing of annoying alarm clock. The child grunts as he bangs on top of the screeching device making it stop. A few moments later, before he can get any sleep, he is nudged hard by an averagely sized woman a bit on the hefty side saying to him, "Come on Zell, breakfast is on the table." Knowing she said the appeasing words she left. Zell sprang up now grabbing a set of clothes off the ground. He takes off his old set of pajamas giving anyone in the room no time to even see the kid's surprising muscular build.

Wearing his normal clothes, he rushes down to the kitchen and leaps into a chair. The plate full of food now, light fluffy pancakes with scrambled eggs and bacon strips. Now holding his 'weapons' of choice, Zell digs his eating utensils into his food and begins scarfing the perfectly cooked meal. "Now Zell" Mrs. Dincht protested, "If you continue eating like that you're gonna choke." Zell just rolled his eyes his plate already half visible. He just continued eating in the same manner, and within a few minutes his plate was clean and stomach satisfied. He walked to the sink and dropped his dirty plate and utensils in. His mother had just began washing dishes, and looked over her shoulder noticing Zell reach up for some orange juice. Zell takes the carton and unscrews the top and begins drinking out of it. Mrs. Dincht cleared her throat as Zell quickly puts the carton back. Then the worried mother said, "Now instead of going to stay at the Garden today, why don't you take up fishing like the other men of the town?" Zell replies quickly, "I really don't want to mom." She sighed obviously worried about her little boy and she continued pleading, "You don't have to follow the foot steps of your grandfather." Zell just puts a hand through his bleach-blonde hair and stands in the door frame facing back to her, "Don't worry mom, I'll make you proud."

He leaves intent on becoming a great soldier like his grandfather and begins his walk on the rock-paved road. He walks up a hill to the car shop and stands there looking at a 'Welcome to Balamb' sign. An old man comes and nudges the pondering teenager, "Thinking about breaking the record set by your grandfather?" Zell begins to delve more into thought as he replies, "It's an old record and 98 is hard to beat…" The old man just smirks as he watches the kid walk up to the sign. With cloth gloves grasping the bar he begins doing pull-ups starting at a steady pace. The old man blows a whistle as every worker in the shop comes out. "25…" Zell mutters as a crowd of workers come around huddling in a circle. Eventually, a lot of people migrate to the scene as Zell straightens out his arms still holding his body up. '75…' Zell says his voice sounding like he is in an extreme amount of pain. A pack of small children, mostly girls, urged him to continue. The old man still with a smile on his face says, "Enough resting, you got it Zell." Zell continues struggling leaving the counting to the crowd of people. He blocks out all the noise most coming from the people who are counting still. After a while, Zell does one last pull-up that took very long to push-out. He fell straight down his arms feeling like jell-o and his head in the grass staring up at the sky. Breathing heavily he asked, "How many I do?" The old man hovers over him and says, "Only about 100… you did it!" Zell leaps into the air forgetting about his pain "BOOYA!" The old man still seeming to be content with the whole situation says, "Follow me…" Zell goes through the crowd following him back to the shop as the crowd disperses going back to normal business.

Zell tightens his cloth gloves as the old man begins saying, "Your grandfather before he began his fighting years, came to me and asked for a tattoo. He said that this tattoo would be worn by only a great warriors and he would make an example of it. I believe he would want you to receive the same one he did. So If you are interested, just tell me where you would like to get it." Zell still panting replies, "I want everyone to know about it, so right here!" He touches the side of his face. The old man warns him, "that is gonna hurt you know." Zell just waves the statement off as the old man goes to get the rusty needle. He cleans the needle thoroughly and places the blank ink in it. Walking over, Zell clenches his fists awaiting the pain about to be bestowed upon him. As the needle touches his skin it delves in and a sharp pain is sent through his whole body. The proud kid would not allow the shout to come from him or even a single tear. Soon afterward, his whole face went numb and his cheek began to bleed. The task being completed the old man guided him to the sink. He washed the blood from off his face and put a rag on it until it stopped. The rag was all crimson but when he looked in the mirror he saw what came to be his dream. He touched his cheek now ignoring the pain just from that soft graze, vowing to become as great as his grandfather. He returned home to lunch wondering whether his mother will scold him for his actions or not… it didn't really matter since he was going to Balamb Garden today anyway…

(flash back over)

Zell lowers the paper from his face as a rude student comments, "So let me get this straight. Your major accomplishment in life is doing 100 pull-ups? That's ridiculous!" The whole class erupts with laughter as Zell scans their faces. The only person not laughing is Squall. Zell thinks quickly, 'the only reason he isn't laughing is because he never laughs at anything.' His face turns red now thoroughly embarrassed knowing he is the middle of class so really can't vent or explode. Quistis with that gently smile had a hand covering her mouth as everyone stopped laughing. She stood up and announced, "This is SeeD week, and a lot is happening make sure you're up to date." Everyone just flocks out of the class to do their own thing.